Ghost Of Her Face
© Surazeus
2019 02 17
Blind turtle that crawls from the pastel sea
bears our crowded continents on its shell
when shadows of strangers in swirling mist
kiss each other before silence of death
reveals contrary concepts in full hearts
who follow secret clues on tangled charts.
How long in gleams of indifferent sunlight
I study secret codes on turtle shell
to understand human relationships
that tangle hopes and dreams in drama curse
through woven fabric of the four-poled house
where we sit on top of the pyramid.
Smears of pastel colors on cotton cloth
reveal shadows of souls who know my name
though I erased all references to me
from temple walls before indifferent dawn
finds me alone by placid waterfall
meditating on hot tensions of lust.
My father appoints me Yahweh of Teman
so I seat my pregnant bride Asherah
on wagon throne, then walk white desert sand
to reign on pyramid while dragons play
where water fountains from heart of the world
to justify my rule in groves of fruit trees.
What strange memory flashes into my eyes
when I stand on sea shore and watch blue waves
spiral from deep heart of our turning world
since my mother Asherah with green eyes
abandoned me by wind-ruffled orange tree
to flee with Dagon to the Promised Land.
So when I meet the lion on the beach,
wild beast with muscular legs and fierce eyes,
pacing tight circles around the world core,
I become the monster of hungry hope
to sweep gaze of my vision on vast world,
eager to taste horror and consume truth.
I mold thick river clay into square bricks,
bake them hard in oven of writhing flames,
then haul them on wagon up crumbling hill
to build pyramid foundation of empire
on which my sons can reign as Yahweh God
who wields scepter to crush skulls of cruel slavers.
Asherah walks among fruit trees at dawn
to show me where the turtle crawls alone,
and explains our world is shaped like its shell
with rivers flowing between mountain peaks,
then she vanishes in sunlight through leaves,
and I cry alone with ghost of her face.
© Surazeus
2019 02 17
Blind turtle that crawls from the pastel sea
bears our crowded continents on its shell
when shadows of strangers in swirling mist
kiss each other before silence of death
reveals contrary concepts in full hearts
who follow secret clues on tangled charts.
How long in gleams of indifferent sunlight
I study secret codes on turtle shell
to understand human relationships
that tangle hopes and dreams in drama curse
through woven fabric of the four-poled house
where we sit on top of the pyramid.
Smears of pastel colors on cotton cloth
reveal shadows of souls who know my name
though I erased all references to me
from temple walls before indifferent dawn
finds me alone by placid waterfall
meditating on hot tensions of lust.
My father appoints me Yahweh of Teman
so I seat my pregnant bride Asherah
on wagon throne, then walk white desert sand
to reign on pyramid while dragons play
where water fountains from heart of the world
to justify my rule in groves of fruit trees.
What strange memory flashes into my eyes
when I stand on sea shore and watch blue waves
spiral from deep heart of our turning world
since my mother Asherah with green eyes
abandoned me by wind-ruffled orange tree
to flee with Dagon to the Promised Land.
So when I meet the lion on the beach,
wild beast with muscular legs and fierce eyes,
pacing tight circles around the world core,
I become the monster of hungry hope
to sweep gaze of my vision on vast world,
eager to taste horror and consume truth.
I mold thick river clay into square bricks,
bake them hard in oven of writhing flames,
then haul them on wagon up crumbling hill
to build pyramid foundation of empire
on which my sons can reign as Yahweh God
who wields scepter to crush skulls of cruel slavers.
Asherah walks among fruit trees at dawn
to show me where the turtle crawls alone,
and explains our world is shaped like its shell
with rivers flowing between mountain peaks,
then she vanishes in sunlight through leaves,
and I cry alone with ghost of her face.
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