Whirl Of Infinite Spirit

Whirl Of Infinite Spirit
© Surazeus
2018 10 26

Sometimes when I am singing in the wind
that spirals from whirl of infinite spirit
my words clank clumsy as factory machines
and sometimes soar on flash of angel wings
that throw my fragile body from the sky
so I waver with fractured bones of glass.

I look in every eye that looks at me
to know aching loss of infinity
that fills my empty heart with selfless love
so I give till I vanish in false fame
which shrouds my pulsing corpse with bridal veil
before blind prophet reveals sacrifice.

I could leap from this window of despair
in restless search for opportunity
but wings of Icarus would never spread
wide enough to incorporate formulas
expressed as spells from mouths of eager girls
who gather to gossip in tower of silence.

I wear plain mask of the many-faced god
to blend in with the crowd of stereotypes
who play their roles on the chessboard of fate
without question that God assigned their part
so they accept their place in game of power
subordinate to blind mortals with fake names.

The princess in each tower of castle hall
dreams that she will wield scepter of critique
to explicate secret code in plain spell
which transforms my shell from frog into angel
so I sing hymns to my admiring bog,
face illuminated by slanting light.

Whirl of infinite spirit flashes bright
every atom woven into my being
so I watch for delicate mask of glass
to emerge from mirror of backward world,
proclaiming weird truth no one wants to hear,
to convince them I am invisible.