Spiral Wheels Of Infinite Light
© Surazeus
2019 02 01
That moment when we first meet in strange rain
we lose our names with sense of victory
while gazing loyal in familiar eyes
to give each other mask of love we make
but still retreat behind thin veil of hope
at quick exchange of sparks between our hearts.
Alone under canopy of tall trees
that drip green rain from gold moon at midnight,
I eat mushrooms and become spinning world
of bright atomic eyes in web of souls
to search spiral wheels beamed from sparks of light
and comprehend pattern of essential truths.
While trying to see patterns of eternal forms
within spiral wheels of infinite light,
I realize, while laughing in silent rain,
that my lucid brain cannot be deceived
by hallucinations induced by mushrooms
because specters solve back to the real world.
The more I try to see beyond that veil
of illusion, which shrouds real world of forms
with masking concepts of our spoken words,
the more I see real essence of all objects
pulsing with atoms linked tight by electrons
in shimmering matrix of material web.
Sitting on wood bench by the red brick wall,
I gaze at trees on hills under vast sky,
yellow on green under blue flashing beams
of anguish to remember every land
where my ancestors lived ten million years
now coloring this scene with timeless emotions.
My brain projects at new scene I perceive
emotional color my ancestors dreamed
which programs my brain to perceive this world
with generic shapes their brains first conceived
so my brain conjures model of real world
based on models my ancestors designed.
I cannot see the real world as it is
because my brain, receiving rays of light,
conjures simple model of changing shapes
to reflect their shining essence of being
concealed by apparition my eyes beam,
which provides me fleeting glimpse of its spirit
so I almost become all I am not.
The man aims the gun at my soul and fires
so metal bullet of hate zings through space
as I hurl Thunderbolt of Zeus at him
when conflict of wills annihilates truth
in billowing flash of atomic bomb
that shatters frail shell of our spinning world.
When we first meet I perceive your real soul
but vision of your face my mind first paints
conceals seething change as your soul evolves
so I see illusion of you I want
while you become more yourself as you are
and vacate husk of your idol I keep.
I wander so deep in labyrinth of dreams,
searching for ultimate truth of real things,
I wake and find myself in our real world
where billions of people have dreaming brains
which conjure virtual models of one world
so each person perceives it differently.
The leader of the nation of each land
plays God as final judge of right and wrong
as they direct the drama we all play
by assigning each person special role
to perform their function in the food game
till we generate new children, then die.
I play my little part day after day
to activate food-production machine
then dive into the quick slipstream of time
to swim into the vast anonymous sea
where I sit on the beach of timeless light
and erase the Song of Myself we dream.
© Surazeus
2019 02 01
That moment when we first meet in strange rain
we lose our names with sense of victory
while gazing loyal in familiar eyes
to give each other mask of love we make
but still retreat behind thin veil of hope
at quick exchange of sparks between our hearts.
Alone under canopy of tall trees
that drip green rain from gold moon at midnight,
I eat mushrooms and become spinning world
of bright atomic eyes in web of souls
to search spiral wheels beamed from sparks of light
and comprehend pattern of essential truths.
While trying to see patterns of eternal forms
within spiral wheels of infinite light,
I realize, while laughing in silent rain,
that my lucid brain cannot be deceived
by hallucinations induced by mushrooms
because specters solve back to the real world.
The more I try to see beyond that veil
of illusion, which shrouds real world of forms
with masking concepts of our spoken words,
the more I see real essence of all objects
pulsing with atoms linked tight by electrons
in shimmering matrix of material web.
Sitting on wood bench by the red brick wall,
I gaze at trees on hills under vast sky,
yellow on green under blue flashing beams
of anguish to remember every land
where my ancestors lived ten million years
now coloring this scene with timeless emotions.
My brain projects at new scene I perceive
emotional color my ancestors dreamed
which programs my brain to perceive this world
with generic shapes their brains first conceived
so my brain conjures model of real world
based on models my ancestors designed.
I cannot see the real world as it is
because my brain, receiving rays of light,
conjures simple model of changing shapes
to reflect their shining essence of being
concealed by apparition my eyes beam,
which provides me fleeting glimpse of its spirit
so I almost become all I am not.
The man aims the gun at my soul and fires
so metal bullet of hate zings through space
as I hurl Thunderbolt of Zeus at him
when conflict of wills annihilates truth
in billowing flash of atomic bomb
that shatters frail shell of our spinning world.
When we first meet I perceive your real soul
but vision of your face my mind first paints
conceals seething change as your soul evolves
so I see illusion of you I want
while you become more yourself as you are
and vacate husk of your idol I keep.
I wander so deep in labyrinth of dreams,
searching for ultimate truth of real things,
I wake and find myself in our real world
where billions of people have dreaming brains
which conjure virtual models of one world
so each person perceives it differently.
The leader of the nation of each land
plays God as final judge of right and wrong
as they direct the drama we all play
by assigning each person special role
to perform their function in the food game
till we generate new children, then die.
I play my little part day after day
to activate food-production machine
then dive into the quick slipstream of time
to swim into the vast anonymous sea
where I sit on the beach of timeless light
and erase the Song of Myself we dream.
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