Wild Heartbeat Of Onatah
© Surazeus
2018 06 02
I feel unnameable horror of hope
bulge from the dew-wet grass of my front lawn
to crawl with agony of happiness
from cheerful sorrow of the rancid dawn.
The spirit of our tribe is not this place,
but shimmers in the eyes of all our people
who travel far across the spinning world
to build new homes on nameless river shores.
I hold silver mirror over my face
and ask strangers walking by on the street,
"How do you see me?" So they stop and look
at their own faces they project at me.
"My novel is about the universe,"
she tells me at the cafe, drinking coffee,
"and the infinite consciousness of atoms
that express its love in our human life."
We walk together in the maze of doors,
holding hands so we can stay close together
in the swirling chaos of human drama,
and glue photos of our faces on walls.
Millions of people never speaking words
walk together in crowds of random search,
yet write words of fire on the silent air
to draw portraits of people they might love.
All the people I once met years ago,
attending school and church in distant lands,
vanish in the haze of false memory
so I write their names on sidewalks with chalk.
While walking between classes during college
I hang upside down from the gnarly tree
and invent new name for my private planet
which I call Ranika, lush land of Rana.
Because Rana is the name of my goddess,
the green-eyed French girl who weeps in the rain
when I ride my horse to fight in the war
that will free our nation from cruel invaders.
I design gold graviton-powered starship
which I fly along streams of spiral beams
across the universe of blazing suns
that nourish billions of planets with life.
I land on every planet I can find
and write the name of every living person
to compile Encyclopedia of Souls
in galactic epic of the Whole Mind.
Still standing on my wet lawn in the dawn,
staring up at stars fading in the Blue,
I drop my own useless name in the soil
which sprouts into mushrooms I eat for dinner.
"We must develop new technologies
to live anywhere on our shuddering world,
thriving communities in hostile deserts,
before we can explore vastness of space."
I kneel and press my hands on the wet lawn
and feel the wild heartbeat of Onatah,
Corn Maiden whose spirit lives in this land
so I can hear her song in the new wind.
© Surazeus
2018 06 02
I feel unnameable horror of hope
bulge from the dew-wet grass of my front lawn
to crawl with agony of happiness
from cheerful sorrow of the rancid dawn.
The spirit of our tribe is not this place,
but shimmers in the eyes of all our people
who travel far across the spinning world
to build new homes on nameless river shores.
I hold silver mirror over my face
and ask strangers walking by on the street,
"How do you see me?" So they stop and look
at their own faces they project at me.
"My novel is about the universe,"
she tells me at the cafe, drinking coffee,
"and the infinite consciousness of atoms
that express its love in our human life."
We walk together in the maze of doors,
holding hands so we can stay close together
in the swirling chaos of human drama,
and glue photos of our faces on walls.
Millions of people never speaking words
walk together in crowds of random search,
yet write words of fire on the silent air
to draw portraits of people they might love.
All the people I once met years ago,
attending school and church in distant lands,
vanish in the haze of false memory
so I write their names on sidewalks with chalk.
While walking between classes during college
I hang upside down from the gnarly tree
and invent new name for my private planet
which I call Ranika, lush land of Rana.
Because Rana is the name of my goddess,
the green-eyed French girl who weeps in the rain
when I ride my horse to fight in the war
that will free our nation from cruel invaders.
I design gold graviton-powered starship
which I fly along streams of spiral beams
across the universe of blazing suns
that nourish billions of planets with life.
I land on every planet I can find
and write the name of every living person
to compile Encyclopedia of Souls
in galactic epic of the Whole Mind.
Still standing on my wet lawn in the dawn,
staring up at stars fading in the Blue,
I drop my own useless name in the soil
which sprouts into mushrooms I eat for dinner.
"We must develop new technologies
to live anywhere on our shuddering world,
thriving communities in hostile deserts,
before we can explore vastness of space."
I kneel and press my hands on the wet lawn
and feel the wild heartbeat of Onatah,
Corn Maiden whose spirit lives in this land
so I can hear her song in the new wind.
Onatah - my name for the 48 states of the United States.
ReplyDeletehttps://www.facebook.com/Onatah.USA/