Caravan Of Broken Wheels
© Surazeus
2018 11 08
Leaving on journey of ten thousand years,
I cup songs of sorrow in aching heart
to record soft thrum of rain on the roof
that shines through the window behind her head.
I walk many lifetimes but never move
beyond the ruined walls of paradise
which ever glimmer around my mute heart
no matter how far I wander away.
Moist grass sprouts from rottenness of my heart
to dissolve memories of sorrow to hour
of quiet peace by river that still flows
ten thousand years after I become dirt.
Rise up from the grave of your broken hearts,
people of every land where tyrants rule,
and follow me to the strange Promised Land
when I lead caravan of broken wheels.
She knows why I want to find the new world
but I bring the old world staining my heart
so I wait for her kiss to change my soul
though we lost each other too long ago.
Leaving on journey of ten thousand dreams,
I beat invisible wings against wind
but never can rise above petty squabbles
when strangers fight over the same fruit tree.
Though I wander waste land of singing snakes
I find no wisdom about human mind
that I could share with people in the church
to help them see beyond the lie of Heaven.
Wake up from dream of ideology,
people of every land where blind kings rule,
and follow me to the fake Promised Land
when I lead caravan of broken wheels.
Faces smeared with blood and dust after war,
people crowd around me when I return,
asking for truth found in handful of dust,
so I give them each one black apple seed.
I preach before the pyramid of power
to reveal prophecy of the blind jester
whose father reigned as Emperor of the Earth,
since I wear his face as mask of my self.
Uprooted from the fertile land of hills
where my ancestors lived for centuries,
I wander past strong homes that people built
with bleeding hands, following the wild wind.
Escape from paradise of fantasy,
people of every land where preachers lie,
and follow me to the true Promised Land
when I lead caravan of broken wheels.
Wearing the black lace dress of her despair,
the woman with three eyes stands before me
on dusty road through the middle of town
and gives me the egg she stole from the dragon.
If I were ruler of this cluttered land
I would rebuild cities, bridges, and roads
to connect remote towns to center tower
where I preside over Feast of Lost Souls.
I build new castle on the hill of skulls
where the apple tree from Garden of Eden
shadows the court where we gather to feast
and share stories about our quest for truth.
Climb the stairway to Heaven of your hopes,
people of every land where bankers steal,
and follow me to the free Promised Land
when I lead caravan of broken wheels.
The farmer, whistling tunes the ravens sing
in moonlight, plants my eyes in fertile soil
so ten thousand children spring from my mind
who gather singing with indifferent rain.
I lead the caravan of wandering souls
through waste land of horror where spirits howl
in restless search to find the Promised Land
to ride roller coasters and eat beef burgers.
The weeping woman in the Church of Skulls
rips my beating heart out of my frail breast
and melds my soul in statue of the angel
so I can fly over city of dreams.
Follow the Moon Owl through labyrinth of lies,
people of every land where angels weep,
and follow me to the weird Promised Land
when I lead caravan of broken wheels.
When you look up to the sky at sunset
you will see me flying over Middle-Earth
to bring the message of good news to all
that we can never resurrect from death.
Exiled from the homes we built with our hands
we gather together on Road of Hope
and journey forward through the wilderness
while singing hymns for the crucified god.
What will we say when we arrive at last,
hungry but hopeful at the Gates of Heaven,
asking for admittance to paradise
and weep when they take our children away?
Build new homes on the shore of Laughing River,
people of every land where thieves prevail,
and follow me to the locked Promised Land
when I lead caravan of broken wheels.
© Surazeus
2018 11 08
Leaving on journey of ten thousand years,
I cup songs of sorrow in aching heart
to record soft thrum of rain on the roof
that shines through the window behind her head.
I walk many lifetimes but never move
beyond the ruined walls of paradise
which ever glimmer around my mute heart
no matter how far I wander away.
Moist grass sprouts from rottenness of my heart
to dissolve memories of sorrow to hour
of quiet peace by river that still flows
ten thousand years after I become dirt.
Rise up from the grave of your broken hearts,
people of every land where tyrants rule,
and follow me to the strange Promised Land
when I lead caravan of broken wheels.
She knows why I want to find the new world
but I bring the old world staining my heart
so I wait for her kiss to change my soul
though we lost each other too long ago.
Leaving on journey of ten thousand dreams,
I beat invisible wings against wind
but never can rise above petty squabbles
when strangers fight over the same fruit tree.
Though I wander waste land of singing snakes
I find no wisdom about human mind
that I could share with people in the church
to help them see beyond the lie of Heaven.
Wake up from dream of ideology,
people of every land where blind kings rule,
and follow me to the fake Promised Land
when I lead caravan of broken wheels.
Faces smeared with blood and dust after war,
people crowd around me when I return,
asking for truth found in handful of dust,
so I give them each one black apple seed.
I preach before the pyramid of power
to reveal prophecy of the blind jester
whose father reigned as Emperor of the Earth,
since I wear his face as mask of my self.
Uprooted from the fertile land of hills
where my ancestors lived for centuries,
I wander past strong homes that people built
with bleeding hands, following the wild wind.
Escape from paradise of fantasy,
people of every land where preachers lie,
and follow me to the true Promised Land
when I lead caravan of broken wheels.
Wearing the black lace dress of her despair,
the woman with three eyes stands before me
on dusty road through the middle of town
and gives me the egg she stole from the dragon.
If I were ruler of this cluttered land
I would rebuild cities, bridges, and roads
to connect remote towns to center tower
where I preside over Feast of Lost Souls.
I build new castle on the hill of skulls
where the apple tree from Garden of Eden
shadows the court where we gather to feast
and share stories about our quest for truth.
Climb the stairway to Heaven of your hopes,
people of every land where bankers steal,
and follow me to the free Promised Land
when I lead caravan of broken wheels.
The farmer, whistling tunes the ravens sing
in moonlight, plants my eyes in fertile soil
so ten thousand children spring from my mind
who gather singing with indifferent rain.
I lead the caravan of wandering souls
through waste land of horror where spirits howl
in restless search to find the Promised Land
to ride roller coasters and eat beef burgers.
The weeping woman in the Church of Skulls
rips my beating heart out of my frail breast
and melds my soul in statue of the angel
so I can fly over city of dreams.
Follow the Moon Owl through labyrinth of lies,
people of every land where angels weep,
and follow me to the weird Promised Land
when I lead caravan of broken wheels.
When you look up to the sky at sunset
you will see me flying over Middle-Earth
to bring the message of good news to all
that we can never resurrect from death.
Exiled from the homes we built with our hands
we gather together on Road of Hope
and journey forward through the wilderness
while singing hymns for the crucified god.
What will we say when we arrive at last,
hungry but hopeful at the Gates of Heaven,
asking for admittance to paradise
and weep when they take our children away?
Build new homes on the shore of Laughing River,
people of every land where thieves prevail,
and follow me to the locked Promised Land
when I lead caravan of broken wheels.
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