Upper Antelope Canyon

Upper Antelope Canyon
© Surazeus
2019 01 08

Gold light beams down into gold sandstone cave
in Upper Antelope Canyon at noon
deep in red desert of the Navajo,
where angels hide from horror of the truth.

Worn into smooth curves of infinite faith
by keen caress of articulate wind,
red sandstone walls whisper forgotten names
of ghosts who haunt my vivid memories.

How atoms construct time in rippling wave
of calculations that describe our moon
reveals sunlight on trees in Idaho
for endless quest of our messiah sleuth.

God is the Glow Cloud of the Singing Wraith
who reincarnates as Zeus to rescind
unjust rules that control our social games
when we compete to win the golden keys.

When you elect me as your White House Knave
I will compose new American tune
to rebuild ruined walls of Jericho
designed by the brilliant daughter of Ruth.

When galaxies are shaped by cosmic lathe
to mirror cathedral hall where rays bend
through prism of rainbows in mental frames,
we meet First Mother born from swirling seas.

I stand in light beam in gold sandstone cave
in Upper Antelope Canyon where moon
illuminates her face with cosmic glow,
and kiss her red lips, soft as ancient truth.

Slipping in hot springs at midnight to bathe,
we sing riddles with articulate wind
of Eternal Spirit to list the names
of people fading from our memories.