Feeling Of Gaialgia
© Surazeus
2018 11 03
The strange sense of flowing eternity
sparkles around me in the morning air
when I step outside the door of my home
and gaze up at the sky shimmering so blue
I feel dizzy from motion of the Earth
that spirals silently into the void.
I will not race through the maze of success
to compete for flash of prizes and fame
that blinds my eyes to immortality
of nothing that exists in world of forms
for I am nothing more than random flame
of molecules assembled for brief time.
This aching sorrow of saudade I feel
for all those places where I used to live,
and people I will never see again,
blows wind in the flapping sail of my heart
which carries me onward into the future
toward strange places I have never yet seen.
This weird new feeling that now stings my heart
of deep sadness tinged by hopeful regret,
when I realize I will never experience
most of this planet where we live and die,
congeals in pain of love for this whole world
I call Gaialgia to preserve its tone.
The ancient spirit of my dreaming mind
still slithers on serpent scales in the stone
high on the jagged mountain where it soaks
sunrays to weave neurons of my sponge brain
when I wake and see in its mirror eye
million years of evolution I am.
The same star-dust shining inside the stone
shines in the river flowing on the plain,
shines in the wind I breathe into my lungs,
shines in the apple oozing in my hand,
and shines in the neuron web of my brain,
so we will all return to its first state.
The man who studies curved shape of bird wings
designs new airplanes to zoom through the air
but bombers never change to butterflies
that flash across the sky where Zeus once dwelled
to hurl thunderbolts of wrath at mankind,
though we want to tend gardens by the river.
Though I can never visit every vale
by every river on this spinning world
I can explore their contours on the globe
that flashes images on my computer
when I navigate Atlas of World History
to dream endless drama of human games.
This feeling of Gaialgia in my heart,
that I will never visit all the Earth,
now motivates me to express in words
of masked angst desire to become the world
and spread my molecules into lush soil
where roots of trees will form me into fruit.
Bowling alone in the Church of Lost Souls,
I dance with angels of our better nature
who explain the ideal way to behave
so I could navigate the maze of tricks
to ascend the pyramid of world fame
and fool everyone to think I am God.
Strolling dirt trail in the orchard at noon,
I pause and touch the yellow lemon skin,
rough as the bulging contours of the Earth
where mountains and valleys discuss the truth
of geometry which weaves spiral patterns
of flashing molecules to dream my brain.
Though I cannot visit the entire world
in one lifetime before my brain dissolves
to star-dust, I remember all the dreams
of each ancestor programmed in my brain
so my spirit still walks along each river
where they lived the past hundred million years.
Each ancestor in my genetic code
lived near every river in every valley
that flows through every grove on every mountain
to every cove on every wave-washed beach,
so the shape of this entire spinning world
shimmers in the virtual world of my brain.
Since we crawled from the warm womb of the ocean,
swimming into the current of sweet rivers,
floating in the lake where sun flickers bright,
creeping through grass to climb trees for sweet fruit,
then learning to walk upright in sea waves,
we have explored every nook of the Earth.
This feeling of Gaialgia wakes new love
for diverse beauty of our spinning globe,
so I sit alone in my small back yard,
somewhere in chess board of civilization,
and strum guitar designed by Mercury
to sing my visions to indifferent wind.
While our Earth still spirals through empty space
she will nurture our bodies with her soil
and breastfeed our souls with juice of her fruits,
or maybe she will demolish our cities
and destroy us all with earthquakes and floods,
yet our hearts will sting with pain of her love.
© Surazeus
2018 11 03
The strange sense of flowing eternity
sparkles around me in the morning air
when I step outside the door of my home
and gaze up at the sky shimmering so blue
I feel dizzy from motion of the Earth
that spirals silently into the void.
I will not race through the maze of success
to compete for flash of prizes and fame
that blinds my eyes to immortality
of nothing that exists in world of forms
for I am nothing more than random flame
of molecules assembled for brief time.
This aching sorrow of saudade I feel
for all those places where I used to live,
and people I will never see again,
blows wind in the flapping sail of my heart
which carries me onward into the future
toward strange places I have never yet seen.
This weird new feeling that now stings my heart
of deep sadness tinged by hopeful regret,
when I realize I will never experience
most of this planet where we live and die,
congeals in pain of love for this whole world
I call Gaialgia to preserve its tone.
The ancient spirit of my dreaming mind
still slithers on serpent scales in the stone
high on the jagged mountain where it soaks
sunrays to weave neurons of my sponge brain
when I wake and see in its mirror eye
million years of evolution I am.
The same star-dust shining inside the stone
shines in the river flowing on the plain,
shines in the wind I breathe into my lungs,
shines in the apple oozing in my hand,
and shines in the neuron web of my brain,
so we will all return to its first state.
The man who studies curved shape of bird wings
designs new airplanes to zoom through the air
but bombers never change to butterflies
that flash across the sky where Zeus once dwelled
to hurl thunderbolts of wrath at mankind,
though we want to tend gardens by the river.
Though I can never visit every vale
by every river on this spinning world
I can explore their contours on the globe
that flashes images on my computer
when I navigate Atlas of World History
to dream endless drama of human games.
This feeling of Gaialgia in my heart,
that I will never visit all the Earth,
now motivates me to express in words
of masked angst desire to become the world
and spread my molecules into lush soil
where roots of trees will form me into fruit.
Bowling alone in the Church of Lost Souls,
I dance with angels of our better nature
who explain the ideal way to behave
so I could navigate the maze of tricks
to ascend the pyramid of world fame
and fool everyone to think I am God.
Strolling dirt trail in the orchard at noon,
I pause and touch the yellow lemon skin,
rough as the bulging contours of the Earth
where mountains and valleys discuss the truth
of geometry which weaves spiral patterns
of flashing molecules to dream my brain.
Though I cannot visit the entire world
in one lifetime before my brain dissolves
to star-dust, I remember all the dreams
of each ancestor programmed in my brain
so my spirit still walks along each river
where they lived the past hundred million years.
Each ancestor in my genetic code
lived near every river in every valley
that flows through every grove on every mountain
to every cove on every wave-washed beach,
so the shape of this entire spinning world
shimmers in the virtual world of my brain.
Since we crawled from the warm womb of the ocean,
swimming into the current of sweet rivers,
floating in the lake where sun flickers bright,
creeping through grass to climb trees for sweet fruit,
then learning to walk upright in sea waves,
we have explored every nook of the Earth.
This feeling of Gaialgia wakes new love
for diverse beauty of our spinning globe,
so I sit alone in my small back yard,
somewhere in chess board of civilization,
and strum guitar designed by Mercury
to sing my visions to indifferent wind.
While our Earth still spirals through empty space
she will nurture our bodies with her soil
and breastfeed our souls with juice of her fruits,
or maybe she will demolish our cities
and destroy us all with earthquakes and floods,
yet our hearts will sting with pain of her love.
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