Girl Beneath The Willow Tree

Girl Beneath The Willow Tree
© Surazeus
2018 06 11

The aching beauty of the pale blue sky
conceals the melody of whispered thoughts
she hides behind her charming smile of faith
since no one knows the secret of her heart.

The teeming ecstasy of puzzle shards
now disassembled by afternoon wind
reveals the melody of arguments
when lovers play chess with lost memories.

Awake in slow hallucination, far
beyond the binding walls of every star,
I float toward mirror of our spinning world
who dreams through consciousness of my sponge brain.

In hyperspeed I walk the endless maze
of every city in the universe
to dream the spirit behind every door
who beams weird memories from silent eyes.

Till name of every soul who ever lived
is woven in the rainbow wings of owls
I will dive down deep in pool of their dreams
to feel the Super Soul who glows in me.

She stops outside my door one summer night,
the angel of the pale blue sky who knows
the most secret name woven in my genes,
and then she vanishes with all my dreams.

I spend ten thousand years following her
west around the world to find where she went
till on the mountain in far nameless land
I glimpse her face in the storm lightning flash.

Whenever I am working at my desk,
typing words on the bright computer screen,
I sense her presence in the glow of light
that slants in through the labyrinth of my mind.

I turn to see her face but she is gone,
sweet scented melody faint in the dawn,
yet when I look for her I see your face,
so you must be the spirit of this place.

So I arrive at work on time each day
and drink hot ginger mocha in white mug
that shows the ancient castle on green hill
my ancestors built with their bleeding hands.

We walk past each other down silent hall,
avoiding conversations we once shared
about the nature of our universe
that tales in holy books cannot contain.

I animate scenes of life on blank wall,
hoping to admit how much I once cared
about my diamond she keeps in her purse
since the pale afternoon we kissed in rain.

I walk the silent streets in purple rain
beyond the emptiness of flowing time,
wondering how numbers can record its change,
but never find the shadow of her face.

Each car that glides past in the sparkling rain
conceals mysterious spirit without name
who never stops to join my foolish game
while I play guitar to transform my pain.

I could be living this in any town
in any country in our spinning world
since I am dizzy with cycles of hope
which always bring me back where I began.

I know I am complete in my one self,
exploring far beyond my childhood home,
with my heart my home wherever I roam,
yet still I search the world for my lost soul.

The ghosts of every person I once knew
are hollow wishes swirling in my heart,
for they are empty spaces all around me
that vanish through the endless dance of hope.

I write the script for part I want to play
but each response is empty of her words
for I am the puppet molded from clay
with a different face in every cracked shard.

So on the stage of life I speak my lines
but rhythm of my meaning echoes lost
down shiny corridors of endless halls
where nobody is walking at my side.

The young blonde woman walking at my side
translates for me the poetry of wind
and I can feel her fragile hand in mine
so I turn to smile at her skeleton.

The city towers are not far away now,
I try to encourage her with false hope,
so we continue walking through the trees
along the signless road that winds nowhere.

I see the pale blue sky in her sweet eyes
so I caress the gold curls on her breast
and sing the melody I heard in rain
while her spirit fades away in the light.

On bed of grass beneath the willow tree
outside the chapel where we sang of faith
she lies still half-alive in glowing light
but when I kiss her lips she swirls away.

The aching beauty of the pale blue sky
preserves the strange memory of her bright eyes
that sparked my heart with love each time she smiled,
shining down at me from the silver moon.