Evening In Wild Country
© Surazeus
2018 08 19
Far along vast stretch of gray field, nowhere
applies contingency through glow of truth
because truth is not truth however much
we exercise faith in things we must touch
although the evening lightless flutter shows
how we hold hands to connect our lone hearts.
Always at steep edge of knowing, I stay
to meditate on strange names we apply
to boundless stretch of dirt where we still walk
forward in slow wind of progressive hope
for what we cannot see beyond the sky
although twisting shapes appear in my eye.
Our evening in wild country reveals thrill
buzzing our hearts at rising of bright light
which transforms darkness into homes and trees
where people and birds exchange trilling songs
so my admiring gaze expands beyond
shadow of objects perceived by the mind.
Glowing idol of each thing that exists,
bound by limits of time and space through change
of interacting atoms that pulse light,
sinks deep into being inside core of what
contains emptiness from expressive hope
for absence reversed by dearth of desire.
Stark terror incites conscious beams to search
corners of empty rooms for flowing shape
of sky-wide void swallowing happy light
which quivers through undulating turmoil
in waves that fill vast open through my route
since I invent context to frame meaningless.
Each person somewhere on wild spinning world
has angels as constructs of solitude
enclosing abstract energy of lust
in archetypal trope of perfect God
who creates weird Heaven our brains design
composed of statues organized by name.
Yellow flashing glow cloud of aching hope
congeals in angel who extends vast wings
to cover dry waste land with thundercloud
crackling with majestic intent to speak
coded spells that rumble rhythm of hearts
which pump throbbing atoms forged by dead stars.
We might not ever understand our dreams
we perceive while we are sure we are awake
yet abstract expressions of flashing thoughts
illuminate motionless world through letters
carved in clay after shimmering shower of eyes
soaks meadow of our skin with seeds of love.
Letters I write with blood on sheets of paper
transform into butterfly messages
expressing sentiments of loyal love
for angels who appear in flash of light
where ancient tree rises from aching soil
in splendid glory of mute incantations.
What weird tune slumbers in soil of my heart
to beat wings against bars of silent hope
through astonished touch of escaping words
that burst from shell of our shuddering sphere
so my voice elucidates theme of horror
which guides our path to pool of sparkling eyes.
All stars shimmer in my small fragile being
with infinite power of humming compassion
to urge my fleeting dance on river shore
so I breathe wind billowing from dark cave
where shadows reflect substance of our shapes
beaming outward from divine core of self.
Drinking from wellspring where swift horses linger,
I contemplate expansive space of mind
which contains multitudes of strange memories
allowing me to experience their lives
through stories planted in soil of my heart
so they transform into true tree of light.
Erecting enormous monument high
on mountain peak where rain slithers in streams,
I carve letters on stones to stamp true signs
of sacred tokens that express wind thoughts
where alone I brood over fallen fruit
to understand how death resurrects life.
Transgressing boundaries of sacred silence,
I follow wind winding around mute rocks
to unbind my body from this still realm
where ample nature flourishes in trees
which ignore me when I pluck their ripe fruit
to consume ecstasy of light and rain.
Shimmering green gestures of singing trees
soothe anxious horror of exploding light
at weird moment of dawn when blazing sun
reveals dream world in its colorful shapes
which mirror my consciousness of myself
in fierce lamentation of sunlight in trees.
Young maiden without face I can remember
guards spring of my tears in calm solitude
while counting sorrows I lost in the night
since sunlight slants through trees on meadow grass
in constellation of my voice when I
sing wordless spell about my thirsty roots.
I sing to empty shadows of my ghosts
who represent emptiness of their presence
since their bodies dissolved down into mud
and mute flowers spring bright from their soggy brains,
then watch my reflection in pool of thoughts
become illusion other people see.
Looking for myself among silent trees,
I hold high lantern of expressive thoughts
which flash as fireflies in blue twilight hope,
though light is time thinking about itself
in smooth vibrations from the tree within
when I explain truth of silence to wind.
Intensity of knowing my lost name
embodies energy through ringing words
when bountiful soil bursts stalks of gold wheat
from fertile Earth producing gift of life
buzzing in my brain with sudden awareness
which we transform Earth into fruitful garden.
Fruit in my mouth speaks of death I evade
though I hide seven apples in my cape
because this frail globe on which we abide
spins swift in transparent flash of weird words
expanding immense wings of gracious joy
through this evening in wild country of truth.
© Surazeus
2018 08 19
Far along vast stretch of gray field, nowhere
applies contingency through glow of truth
because truth is not truth however much
we exercise faith in things we must touch
although the evening lightless flutter shows
how we hold hands to connect our lone hearts.
Always at steep edge of knowing, I stay
to meditate on strange names we apply
to boundless stretch of dirt where we still walk
forward in slow wind of progressive hope
for what we cannot see beyond the sky
although twisting shapes appear in my eye.
Our evening in wild country reveals thrill
buzzing our hearts at rising of bright light
which transforms darkness into homes and trees
where people and birds exchange trilling songs
so my admiring gaze expands beyond
shadow of objects perceived by the mind.
Glowing idol of each thing that exists,
bound by limits of time and space through change
of interacting atoms that pulse light,
sinks deep into being inside core of what
contains emptiness from expressive hope
for absence reversed by dearth of desire.
Stark terror incites conscious beams to search
corners of empty rooms for flowing shape
of sky-wide void swallowing happy light
which quivers through undulating turmoil
in waves that fill vast open through my route
since I invent context to frame meaningless.
Each person somewhere on wild spinning world
has angels as constructs of solitude
enclosing abstract energy of lust
in archetypal trope of perfect God
who creates weird Heaven our brains design
composed of statues organized by name.
Yellow flashing glow cloud of aching hope
congeals in angel who extends vast wings
to cover dry waste land with thundercloud
crackling with majestic intent to speak
coded spells that rumble rhythm of hearts
which pump throbbing atoms forged by dead stars.
We might not ever understand our dreams
we perceive while we are sure we are awake
yet abstract expressions of flashing thoughts
illuminate motionless world through letters
carved in clay after shimmering shower of eyes
soaks meadow of our skin with seeds of love.
Letters I write with blood on sheets of paper
transform into butterfly messages
expressing sentiments of loyal love
for angels who appear in flash of light
where ancient tree rises from aching soil
in splendid glory of mute incantations.
What weird tune slumbers in soil of my heart
to beat wings against bars of silent hope
through astonished touch of escaping words
that burst from shell of our shuddering sphere
so my voice elucidates theme of horror
which guides our path to pool of sparkling eyes.
All stars shimmer in my small fragile being
with infinite power of humming compassion
to urge my fleeting dance on river shore
so I breathe wind billowing from dark cave
where shadows reflect substance of our shapes
beaming outward from divine core of self.
Drinking from wellspring where swift horses linger,
I contemplate expansive space of mind
which contains multitudes of strange memories
allowing me to experience their lives
through stories planted in soil of my heart
so they transform into true tree of light.
Erecting enormous monument high
on mountain peak where rain slithers in streams,
I carve letters on stones to stamp true signs
of sacred tokens that express wind thoughts
where alone I brood over fallen fruit
to understand how death resurrects life.
Transgressing boundaries of sacred silence,
I follow wind winding around mute rocks
to unbind my body from this still realm
where ample nature flourishes in trees
which ignore me when I pluck their ripe fruit
to consume ecstasy of light and rain.
Shimmering green gestures of singing trees
soothe anxious horror of exploding light
at weird moment of dawn when blazing sun
reveals dream world in its colorful shapes
which mirror my consciousness of myself
in fierce lamentation of sunlight in trees.
Young maiden without face I can remember
guards spring of my tears in calm solitude
while counting sorrows I lost in the night
since sunlight slants through trees on meadow grass
in constellation of my voice when I
sing wordless spell about my thirsty roots.
I sing to empty shadows of my ghosts
who represent emptiness of their presence
since their bodies dissolved down into mud
and mute flowers spring bright from their soggy brains,
then watch my reflection in pool of thoughts
become illusion other people see.
Looking for myself among silent trees,
I hold high lantern of expressive thoughts
which flash as fireflies in blue twilight hope,
though light is time thinking about itself
in smooth vibrations from the tree within
when I explain truth of silence to wind.
Intensity of knowing my lost name
embodies energy through ringing words
when bountiful soil bursts stalks of gold wheat
from fertile Earth producing gift of life
buzzing in my brain with sudden awareness
which we transform Earth into fruitful garden.
Fruit in my mouth speaks of death I evade
though I hide seven apples in my cape
because this frail globe on which we abide
spins swift in transparent flash of weird words
expanding immense wings of gracious joy
through this evening in wild country of truth.
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