How I Imitate Orpheus
© Surazeus
2018 08 28
Escaping straight labyrinth of city streets,
I go in search of the new Whispering Wood
to become one again with natural soul,
but cars chase me with engines growling low
so I run forever on signless roads
toward desolation of the broken mask.
Alone on Mount Parnassus at midnight,
I watch Aurora Borealis flash
secret messages on bright radio waves
to analyze social process of growth
when people adapt the latest cool trends
to outwit fools in the chess game of power.
The princess in tall tower with flowing hair
sings heart-aching songs about failed romance,
so I fill baskets with apples of faith
and give them to strangers on city streets
who text each other on glowing smart phones
about the meaning of life no one knows.
Three thousand angels on the Rainbow Bridge,
who give flashing mirrors to nameless souls,
vanish when the crystal sky breaks apart
and reappear as children without eyes
who follow the pied piper down the road
to the amusement park by the wild sea.
Arriving at last to the Whispering Wood,
after wandering the waste land eighty years,
I find Godin hanging from the phone pole,
wires linking his brain to the world wide web,
so I help him down to the Well of Tears
where he gives me gems carved with magic runes.
Returning to the city of blind men,
I stand on street corners with glass guitar
and sing enchanting spells of wordless dreams,
which I learned from the tune of mountain streams,
how all religions of our spinning world
were founded on first pyramid of Ishtar.
Ishtar appears to me on mountain top,
wings of light hovering over the whole world,
and gives me crystal tablet of insight
so I see visions she beams in my eyes
about expansion of our universe
flaring forth from first flash of the White Whole.
Wearing demon mask, I carved from frail skulls
of one thousand dead wizards chanting spells,
I sit in Cave of Shadows by the sea
and calculate secrets in sparkling sand,
then dissolve into dust of singing wind
to become sunlight on water again.
© Surazeus
2018 08 28
Escaping straight labyrinth of city streets,
I go in search of the new Whispering Wood
to become one again with natural soul,
but cars chase me with engines growling low
so I run forever on signless roads
toward desolation of the broken mask.
Alone on Mount Parnassus at midnight,
I watch Aurora Borealis flash
secret messages on bright radio waves
to analyze social process of growth
when people adapt the latest cool trends
to outwit fools in the chess game of power.
The princess in tall tower with flowing hair
sings heart-aching songs about failed romance,
so I fill baskets with apples of faith
and give them to strangers on city streets
who text each other on glowing smart phones
about the meaning of life no one knows.
Three thousand angels on the Rainbow Bridge,
who give flashing mirrors to nameless souls,
vanish when the crystal sky breaks apart
and reappear as children without eyes
who follow the pied piper down the road
to the amusement park by the wild sea.
Arriving at last to the Whispering Wood,
after wandering the waste land eighty years,
I find Godin hanging from the phone pole,
wires linking his brain to the world wide web,
so I help him down to the Well of Tears
where he gives me gems carved with magic runes.
Returning to the city of blind men,
I stand on street corners with glass guitar
and sing enchanting spells of wordless dreams,
which I learned from the tune of mountain streams,
how all religions of our spinning world
were founded on first pyramid of Ishtar.
Ishtar appears to me on mountain top,
wings of light hovering over the whole world,
and gives me crystal tablet of insight
so I see visions she beams in my eyes
about expansion of our universe
flaring forth from first flash of the White Whole.
Wearing demon mask, I carved from frail skulls
of one thousand dead wizards chanting spells,
I sit in Cave of Shadows by the sea
and calculate secrets in sparkling sand,
then dissolve into dust of singing wind
to become sunlight on water again.
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