Joyful Anguish Of Being Alive
© Surazeus
2018 08 29
The nothing of sunlight on whispering grass
conceals joyful anguish of being alive.
Between red-brick buildings of calm classrooms,
where I study chemistry and language,
I pause at aching horror of desire
that spirals through my body from Earth core
in streaming particles of flashing threads
which pierce my heart as flaming wings of hope.
I feel spirit of my ancestors glow
with original light of the big bang,
pulsing in every cell of my soft flesh
in sensitive tingles as if photons
fired by ancient stars far across the void
arrive at last to beam through my frail soul.
On park bench under some sprawling oak tree
I sit to balance compassion of flight
that seems to levitate my fragile soul
inches off the shell of our spinning globe,
and watch people stroll by in Autumn breeze
as if they understand their place in life.
Heart pounding like sea waves that know my name,
I smile at clouds in vast indifferent sky
at sudden memory of the bright face
of someone who smiled at me when my heart
ached with the fractured silence of the mirror.
I need no one for I am strong alone.
Who could have known my heart would turn to stone
that sinks down in mute silence of the sea?
Strolling among trees that flutter in breeze
of nonchalant pride, I glance at the hall
housing huge library of literature,
designed to resemble the Parthenon
that lies in ruins on the Rock of Ares.
From shadow of its ancient hall I hear
chanting of priests when they sacrifice bulls
then roast meat they pass around on brass plates
where everyone gathers at noon to eat
while girls play harps and chant tales of great heroes.
Then I realize with awed laughing surprise
that ancient temples were fancy nightclubs
where the rich would gather each day to feast
and listen to girls sing tunes about love.
Passing by the huge football stadium,
I hear loud roar of hundred thousand fans
cheering the hero with the ball in hand
who dodges players in race for the end zone.
I visualize two villages with gates
on distant hills who hunt the same dark woods,
battling each other as they chase fat pigs
in constant war to control rich resources
that flourish in the woods around the river
which sparkles in the valley of fruit trees.
Though we now buy our food at grocery stores,
we still compete over natural resources
in constant conflict subsumed in team sports
that keep our bodies honed by competition.
I transcend this mortal realm of flesh bodies
through strange apotheosis of my soul
to float on broad wings of ethereal light
and walk in Heaven, Idea of Fruit Garden,
where God, Idea of King as Tribal Leader,
directs the Craftsman to create all things
from Ideas of everything that exist
by shaping material flowing from stars
in objects we perceive on changing Earth.
Standing by the fountain on college campus,
I wake from trance about the old world view
Christians designed from the Ideas of Plato,
now shattered by telescope of Galileo,
and wonder how to design new paradigm.
All matter was contained in single point
that sparked bright at first flash of the big bang
then flared forth in wild rippling waves of atoms
which spiraled into galaxies of stars
where planets coagulated from gas
and third rock from the sun boiled with thick life
that transformed from the single eye of love
over four hundred million years of change,
fish to lizard to mouse to monkey to ape
to man walking upright with crafting hands
to manipulate matter and create
machines to build vast network of computers.
We journey on to recreate our world,
terraforming waste land to paradise.
© Surazeus
2018 08 29
The nothing of sunlight on whispering grass
conceals joyful anguish of being alive.
Between red-brick buildings of calm classrooms,
where I study chemistry and language,
I pause at aching horror of desire
that spirals through my body from Earth core
in streaming particles of flashing threads
which pierce my heart as flaming wings of hope.
I feel spirit of my ancestors glow
with original light of the big bang,
pulsing in every cell of my soft flesh
in sensitive tingles as if photons
fired by ancient stars far across the void
arrive at last to beam through my frail soul.
On park bench under some sprawling oak tree
I sit to balance compassion of flight
that seems to levitate my fragile soul
inches off the shell of our spinning globe,
and watch people stroll by in Autumn breeze
as if they understand their place in life.
Heart pounding like sea waves that know my name,
I smile at clouds in vast indifferent sky
at sudden memory of the bright face
of someone who smiled at me when my heart
ached with the fractured silence of the mirror.
I need no one for I am strong alone.
Who could have known my heart would turn to stone
that sinks down in mute silence of the sea?
Strolling among trees that flutter in breeze
of nonchalant pride, I glance at the hall
housing huge library of literature,
designed to resemble the Parthenon
that lies in ruins on the Rock of Ares.
From shadow of its ancient hall I hear
chanting of priests when they sacrifice bulls
then roast meat they pass around on brass plates
where everyone gathers at noon to eat
while girls play harps and chant tales of great heroes.
Then I realize with awed laughing surprise
that ancient temples were fancy nightclubs
where the rich would gather each day to feast
and listen to girls sing tunes about love.
Passing by the huge football stadium,
I hear loud roar of hundred thousand fans
cheering the hero with the ball in hand
who dodges players in race for the end zone.
I visualize two villages with gates
on distant hills who hunt the same dark woods,
battling each other as they chase fat pigs
in constant war to control rich resources
that flourish in the woods around the river
which sparkles in the valley of fruit trees.
Though we now buy our food at grocery stores,
we still compete over natural resources
in constant conflict subsumed in team sports
that keep our bodies honed by competition.
I transcend this mortal realm of flesh bodies
through strange apotheosis of my soul
to float on broad wings of ethereal light
and walk in Heaven, Idea of Fruit Garden,
where God, Idea of King as Tribal Leader,
directs the Craftsman to create all things
from Ideas of everything that exist
by shaping material flowing from stars
in objects we perceive on changing Earth.
Standing by the fountain on college campus,
I wake from trance about the old world view
Christians designed from the Ideas of Plato,
now shattered by telescope of Galileo,
and wonder how to design new paradigm.
All matter was contained in single point
that sparked bright at first flash of the big bang
then flared forth in wild rippling waves of atoms
which spiraled into galaxies of stars
where planets coagulated from gas
and third rock from the sun boiled with thick life
that transformed from the single eye of love
over four hundred million years of change,
fish to lizard to mouse to monkey to ape
to man walking upright with crafting hands
to manipulate matter and create
machines to build vast network of computers.
We journey on to recreate our world,
terraforming waste land to paradise.
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