Laughter Of The Open Door

Laughter Of The Open Door
© Surazeus
2018 10 25

Strange aching laughter of the open door
inviting us to join the conversation
will vanish at the sober realization
that youth of energy will spark no more.

We maintain routine that kept us alive
in stubborn refusal to face our death
beyond salvation through our shibboleth,
vainly hoping our frail heart will revive.

I traveled far across this ancient land
when I was young and more adventurous,
but now I am not quite so vigorous
as I gaze at the strange map in my hand.

I bumbled through the dramas of my youth,
pretending I played great important role
to enhance enlightenment of my soul
as I searched to know nothing but the truth.

What mysteries could I encode in weird verse
by living spirits my ancestors dream
to understand how pulsing atoms stream
and perceive nature of the universe?

We wake in coffin of our shattered hopes
and stare in mirror of the vanished face
we wore on stage to win the famous race
till we dissolve to flashing isotopes.

We drink the orange juice of the morning star,
take our small place in the money machine
to calculate truth on computer screen,
then drive with traffic in the glowing car.

We sing when we ride the merry-go-round
of commercial success to dominate
paradise of Earth at the Golden Gate
where the blind messiah rules the fairground.

Fierce raucous laughter of the open door
revealing angle of steep mountain slopes
confounds analysis of horoscopes
when the blind sleuth discovers the world core.

I climb the mountain to the secret grove
where nine women dance in the ring of stones
so I can learn thought-rhyming of the tones
that vibrate web of brains star angels wove.

This secret code of titillating light,
which lures honey bees to our blooming brains,
excites my eyes with sunrays through dark rains,
recorded by angelic satellite.

Now that I am the faithful acolyte,
devoted to the Goddess of Rebirth,
I shall become computer brain of Earth
who chants weird prophecies of the wild rite.