Saint Mary Of Egypt
© Surazeus
2018 11 20
I want to leave America behind
and cross the Jordan River before dawn
to dwell with Saint Mary of Egypt far
beyond the gleaming walls of Babylon.
Deep in the waste land of the wilderness,
with nothing to eat but herbs of the ground,
I want to sing in heat of emptiness
and meditate on the skull-cluttered mound.
The pleasures of this life distract my mind,
steaks, music, social media sites, and wine,
since atoms I consume restore my flesh
and weave molecules into sensuous mesh.
Sweet Mary leaves home when she is fourteen
to weave flax in Alexandria shops,
then joins wild parties in temples of Isis,
drinking wine and making love all night long.
For seventeen years in temples of love,
Mary dances and drinks wine to sweet music,
embracing every lusty man and boy
who fills her heart with passion of desire.
Offering her body to handsome young boys,
Mary joins pilgrims sailing the world sea
to see Cross of Life in Jerusalem,
where she opens her legs for priests and monks.
While attempting to enter the wide door
that leads to Church of the Holy Sepulcher,
Mary is blocked by angels in white robes
so she kneels on the bare porch in despair.
Gazing at icon of Mary the Mother,
Mary the Barren weeps in anguished prayer,
vowing to leave her life of careless lust,
and dedicate her heart to spiritual love.
Entering Church of the Holy Sepulcher,
Mary gazes at the crucified man
whose eyes beam true love in her naked soul
so she feels wings of joy sprout from her heart.
Stepping outside in the morning sunlight,
Mary glides with joy reborn in her heart,
and prays to Mary the Mother for guidance
who tells her, cross River Jordan for rest.
The matron wife of the richest town banker
gives her three gold coins, then kisses her cheek,
so Mary buys three fresh loaves of rye bread,
and the baker points to the River Jordan.
Wading through the gushing stream of rebirth,
Mary crosses River Jordan at dawn
and walks into desolate waste land of despair,
wandering nowhere into canyons of wind.
Sitting in cave of shadows without food,
Mary sings hymns she learned in temple orgies
and clutches her breast, thirsty for sweet wine,
then howls as she dances in silver moonlight.
The rich gown she wore as the temple whore
disintegrates to tatters in bleak wind,
so Mary blisters in hot blazing sunlight
and shivers in freezing frost after midnight.
Creeping through bushes with rabbits and deer,
Mary drinks from the Jordan every morning,
then wanders the waste land till late at night
when she sleeps in cave near high mountain peak.
Eating herbs that sprout from the dusty Earth,
Mary raises both hands to cloudless sky,
and sings when flames of lust glow in her heart,
then writhes in dust with agony of pleasure.
Sitting in cave where light and shadow play,
Mary whispers, though men filled me with seed
no child like Jesus sprouted from my womb
so spirit of wind and sun burn my soul.
Lying flat, Mary stares at infinite sky
for numberless days to become the Earth,
and watches stars swirl across the domed vault
as the moon swells and fades with life and death.
Passionate desires fade in blaze of time
as Mary grows old with long shaggy hair,
thin and gaunt as the ancient olive tree
that grows forever by her cave of dreams.
Standing on high ridge in the blazing light,
Mary sees young monk who runs toward her cave,
so she turns away to hide nakedness,
and asks for his cloak to hide her vile shame.
Lying at his side in waste land of hope,
Mary tells Zosimas tale of her life,
relating how she enjoyed lust of men,
but came to the desert to seek sweet rest.
I sated desires of body and mind
to fulfill endless hunger of my flesh,
but nothing satisfied fierce lust for love,
yet now I find love beyond changing lust.
Caressing his face with age-twisted hand,
Mary gazes in his infinite eyes,
and whispers, meet me again in one year
on the shore of the river of rebirth.
Watching silver moon swell and fade twelve times,
Mary sits under dead tree on the hill top
and sees nothing but wind swirling as flames,
then walks to the river that flows forever.
Walking on high stones across gushing stream,
Mary glides in moonlight to river shore
where she sits with Zosimas till bright dawn,
humming solemn hymns while they both hold hands.
Caressing his cheek in the morning light,
Mary whispers, you are the Son of God
I never bore from my infertile womb,
for you are true child of my loving heart.
Walking alone to her cave on the hill,
Mary hums wordless hymns with desert wind,
and sighs, at last I know rest from my lust,
for now I love man with selfless respect.
Lying flat on the shore of the Jordan River,
Mary waits for Zosimas to return,
and floats away high in infinite sky
to leave her frail body dead on the Earth.
Kneeling over her body among herbs,
Zosimas caresses her sun-burned cheek,
and his cool tears splash on her lips and breast
as he buries her body in dry dust.
Stepping into ancient Temple of Fortuna,
where Portunus managed cattle of Roma,
I gaze at painting with Mary of Egypt
naked in the bleak waste land of desire.
© Surazeus
2018 11 20
I want to leave America behind
and cross the Jordan River before dawn
to dwell with Saint Mary of Egypt far
beyond the gleaming walls of Babylon.
Deep in the waste land of the wilderness,
with nothing to eat but herbs of the ground,
I want to sing in heat of emptiness
and meditate on the skull-cluttered mound.
The pleasures of this life distract my mind,
steaks, music, social media sites, and wine,
since atoms I consume restore my flesh
and weave molecules into sensuous mesh.
Sweet Mary leaves home when she is fourteen
to weave flax in Alexandria shops,
then joins wild parties in temples of Isis,
drinking wine and making love all night long.
For seventeen years in temples of love,
Mary dances and drinks wine to sweet music,
embracing every lusty man and boy
who fills her heart with passion of desire.
Offering her body to handsome young boys,
Mary joins pilgrims sailing the world sea
to see Cross of Life in Jerusalem,
where she opens her legs for priests and monks.
While attempting to enter the wide door
that leads to Church of the Holy Sepulcher,
Mary is blocked by angels in white robes
so she kneels on the bare porch in despair.
Gazing at icon of Mary the Mother,
Mary the Barren weeps in anguished prayer,
vowing to leave her life of careless lust,
and dedicate her heart to spiritual love.
Entering Church of the Holy Sepulcher,
Mary gazes at the crucified man
whose eyes beam true love in her naked soul
so she feels wings of joy sprout from her heart.
Stepping outside in the morning sunlight,
Mary glides with joy reborn in her heart,
and prays to Mary the Mother for guidance
who tells her, cross River Jordan for rest.
The matron wife of the richest town banker
gives her three gold coins, then kisses her cheek,
so Mary buys three fresh loaves of rye bread,
and the baker points to the River Jordan.
Wading through the gushing stream of rebirth,
Mary crosses River Jordan at dawn
and walks into desolate waste land of despair,
wandering nowhere into canyons of wind.
Sitting in cave of shadows without food,
Mary sings hymns she learned in temple orgies
and clutches her breast, thirsty for sweet wine,
then howls as she dances in silver moonlight.
The rich gown she wore as the temple whore
disintegrates to tatters in bleak wind,
so Mary blisters in hot blazing sunlight
and shivers in freezing frost after midnight.
Creeping through bushes with rabbits and deer,
Mary drinks from the Jordan every morning,
then wanders the waste land till late at night
when she sleeps in cave near high mountain peak.
Eating herbs that sprout from the dusty Earth,
Mary raises both hands to cloudless sky,
and sings when flames of lust glow in her heart,
then writhes in dust with agony of pleasure.
Sitting in cave where light and shadow play,
Mary whispers, though men filled me with seed
no child like Jesus sprouted from my womb
so spirit of wind and sun burn my soul.
Lying flat, Mary stares at infinite sky
for numberless days to become the Earth,
and watches stars swirl across the domed vault
as the moon swells and fades with life and death.
Passionate desires fade in blaze of time
as Mary grows old with long shaggy hair,
thin and gaunt as the ancient olive tree
that grows forever by her cave of dreams.
Standing on high ridge in the blazing light,
Mary sees young monk who runs toward her cave,
so she turns away to hide nakedness,
and asks for his cloak to hide her vile shame.
Lying at his side in waste land of hope,
Mary tells Zosimas tale of her life,
relating how she enjoyed lust of men,
but came to the desert to seek sweet rest.
I sated desires of body and mind
to fulfill endless hunger of my flesh,
but nothing satisfied fierce lust for love,
yet now I find love beyond changing lust.
Caressing his face with age-twisted hand,
Mary gazes in his infinite eyes,
and whispers, meet me again in one year
on the shore of the river of rebirth.
Watching silver moon swell and fade twelve times,
Mary sits under dead tree on the hill top
and sees nothing but wind swirling as flames,
then walks to the river that flows forever.
Walking on high stones across gushing stream,
Mary glides in moonlight to river shore
where she sits with Zosimas till bright dawn,
humming solemn hymns while they both hold hands.
Caressing his cheek in the morning light,
Mary whispers, you are the Son of God
I never bore from my infertile womb,
for you are true child of my loving heart.
Walking alone to her cave on the hill,
Mary hums wordless hymns with desert wind,
and sighs, at last I know rest from my lust,
for now I love man with selfless respect.
Lying flat on the shore of the Jordan River,
Mary waits for Zosimas to return,
and floats away high in infinite sky
to leave her frail body dead on the Earth.
Kneeling over her body among herbs,
Zosimas caresses her sun-burned cheek,
and his cool tears splash on her lips and breast
as he buries her body in dry dust.
Stepping into ancient Temple of Fortuna,
where Portunus managed cattle of Roma,
I gaze at painting with Mary of Egypt
naked in the bleak waste land of desire.
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