Wisdom Of The Rotting Tree

Wisdom Of The Rotting Tree
© Surazeus
2019 01 05

Fierce knowledge of the articulate wind
that blows across the land of peaceful truth
explains that borders of all nation-states
we will erase to equalize all tribes.

We stand on hill of skulls on flashing flow
of spiral puzzles that unravel chains,
proclaiming revolution of the just
for every race to bathe in one clean pool.

Each person who performs their sacred role
to build cathedral of clandestine law
will earn the surreptitious choice to win
reward of wealth beyond the furtive mask.

Conceal your naked horror in your mind
so you can rein despair with wings of faith
and channel burning rage in buzzing wires
that weave electric soul in web of eyes.

No calculation of the singing ghost
will ever express complete code of trust
how atoms spiral coils of springing light
to sparkle chemistry of lusting flesh.

The handless witch who weaves moonlight in wings
sacrifices the child she bore from rape
and drinks its blood to curse the angry man
who forced her body to create his soul.

Erasing his cruel spirit from this world
she roasts his child and feeds it to wild wolves,
then frees my broken body from the cave
and brings my soul back from the mute abyss.

I break through castle door at crack of dawn
and face my uncle on my judgment throne
then stab his heart with silver blade of hope
to take back crown my long-dead father wore.

I snap awake from ancient dream of blood
and wonder why fearful men fight for power
and kill each other to control the world
though time will crush them all to mindless dust.

Bold wisdom of the rotting tree reveals
why game of justice is kill or be killed
when brothers fight each other to the death
for who will play the judge of divine law.

So that is why I turned my face away
from ancient castle of the bleeding stones
to walk alone across the misty heath
till I stand naked on the ocean cliff.

Now far beyond the garden walls of time
I look back on that winding road of fate
I blazed to avoid duty of the king
who must soak the world in blood to rule well.

Now on frail bridge where no one knows my name
I stare down in vast bottomless abyss,
which reflects back the face my father wore,
and laugh to realize I am him reborn.

I would explain strange narrative of hope
that leads me wandering lost in maze of mirrors
but in delusions of my arrogance
I see my real self hidden by my mask.

We see ourselves in mirror of the face
other people present when we express
conceptual hunger of our bleeding hearts
so we must map new chart of mythic deeds.

Wisdom of the rotting tree that my brain
programs in writhing tendrils of neurons
glows bright as every galaxy that spins
throughout vast dreaming brain of the White Whole.