My Future Shadow
© Surazeus
2018 07 13
The universe is vast structure of atoms
which form in genes that regenerate life,
transforming into brains of conscious souls.
Since I am your imaginary friend,
come play with me among the apple trees
where serpents with rainbow wings explain why.
Down on the sea shore in the sunlit mist
I play chest with Death to save all your souls
but still you follow him in joyful dance.
I am the sane William Cowper who writes
butterfly songs on petals of the rose
which formulate how love transforms our hearts.
I am the John Milton with staring eyes
who sees God in endlessly swirling clouds
who always watches but never speaks words.
Eve gives me her ripe apple of desire
and gazes in my eyes while we devour
delicious shadows of our hungry souls.
The black-eyed girl in the black slender gown
stands on stage before the crowd of eye phones
and chants spells from her latest book of poems.
If I walk backward on the road of time
my future shadow will become myself
that I design with words I stitch from fears.
Long after we consume the feast of tales
we hunt for scraps of wisdom on the floor
till we must hunt another devil down.
At the park bench under tall redwood pines
the one-eyed poet carves Runes of lost spells
with dragon tooth he wrenched from jaws of death.
The little boy lies in the oak-wood boat
that drifts in mist to Isle of Avalon
where Raven People give him apple cider.
Quick sparkling atoms forged inside the sun
spiral into coils of aggressive genes
which generate our divine consciousness.
© Surazeus
2018 07 13
The universe is vast structure of atoms
which form in genes that regenerate life,
transforming into brains of conscious souls.
Since I am your imaginary friend,
come play with me among the apple trees
where serpents with rainbow wings explain why.
Down on the sea shore in the sunlit mist
I play chest with Death to save all your souls
but still you follow him in joyful dance.
I am the sane William Cowper who writes
butterfly songs on petals of the rose
which formulate how love transforms our hearts.
I am the John Milton with staring eyes
who sees God in endlessly swirling clouds
who always watches but never speaks words.
Eve gives me her ripe apple of desire
and gazes in my eyes while we devour
delicious shadows of our hungry souls.
The black-eyed girl in the black slender gown
stands on stage before the crowd of eye phones
and chants spells from her latest book of poems.
If I walk backward on the road of time
my future shadow will become myself
that I design with words I stitch from fears.
Long after we consume the feast of tales
we hunt for scraps of wisdom on the floor
till we must hunt another devil down.
At the park bench under tall redwood pines
the one-eyed poet carves Runes of lost spells
with dragon tooth he wrenched from jaws of death.
The little boy lies in the oak-wood boat
that drifts in mist to Isle of Avalon
where Raven People give him apple cider.
Quick sparkling atoms forged inside the sun
spiral into coils of aggressive genes
which generate our divine consciousness.
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