Sunday, July 8, 2018

Bound By Infinite Light

Bound By Infinite Light
© Surazeus
2018 07 08

My brain blinks slow to fragment flow of time
and slice thick ripple of infinite flash
in segments of perception to contain
swift blinking spiral of progressive growth.

My eyes divide each pulsing flare of time
to thread bright streams of light in tapestry
of visual moments bound in walls of sense
to measure cuttable portions of hope.

We come together on this stage of hope,
progressing forward beyond pale of fear,
to play our role by steps of outward speech
expressing tension of tight-coiled desire.

This mass compulsion through perimeter
of binding closure might compress sharp urge
of flashing genes who snare free molecules,
and replicates whole copy of its soul.

I am hot tension of the flashing star
wound tight in springing coils of conscious lust
who aches to beam from pulsing core of truth
dream visions of my weird ontology.

I mold this facial skin from my rebirth
to form complacent mask of social type
so cameras that record all active play
ignore my process through the maze of doors.

With scissors of acute analysis
I cut strict lines of random words to code
chaotic streams of conscious meditation
enclosed through undulations of blank verse.

To bear the burden of infinity
and surf relentless waves of conscious dream
we mold concepts through ideology
which crafts swift ship of linguistic intent.

When violent storm of aggressive hate blows
harsh winds of criticism to capsize
my intellectual ship of reference,
I tack my vessel angled through harsh blast.

I beat wild luminous wings of pure song
at sucking darkness of bottomless void
while falling from high tower of noble thought
to sink in mindless sea of nothing caught.

Nothing more in our universe exists
than natural structures of spiraling atoms
propelled by cause to construct and destruct
which we define as moral purposes.

We order elements from swirling chaos
to harmonize turmoil with ringing splash,
and sing strict numbered syllables of thought
which assemble fragments in coherent plot.

You know yourself when you look in the mirror,
for in the features of that plastic face
you dream the history of your quest to live
evolving from billions of nameless ancestors.

Beams of sunlight swirling around our globe
congeal into spirit of hoping air
that flashes into splash of urgent water
that flares into dream of perceptive brains.

I stand in wet grass in front of my house
and watch white clouds swirl through crystal blue sky
to form the shapes of things I think about
which I encode in letters on the screen.

These words are not the things they talk about
and I am not the idol of my soul
so keys my fingers tap flash in your eyes
dreams of the world bound by infinite light.

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