Story Hill Of Amen
© Surazeus
2019 02 15
You nameless people I see everywhere,
walking around in world of dirt and air
or smiling from photos on social media,
contain whole history of our universe
recorded in pure animated flame
of conscious hope that glows in your cells.
I love you all, the way your faces glow
with bright consciousness of expressive love
which shimmers in halo of silent words
to light bright torch in hand of Liberty
ripping apart darkness of mute despair
so I can blaze new way to paradise.
Though I cannot stand on stage to perform
authoritarian role of the wise fool,
I sit alone in solitude of bookstores
to watch you live on social media sites,
reciting your stories in crowded rooms
to cheering audience of adoring friends.
Like flocks of birds swirl flashing in vast sky
to settle flapping wings in webs of trees
and twitter concepts of perceptive faith,
you nameless strangers of society
discuss events on social media sites
to program new world view of cosmic truth.
Each person moving in vast maze of Earth
springs from ancestors who traveled each life
far over landscape of lost memories
along gushing rivers to distant lands
on countless pathways around spinning world,
but all first sprang from Story Hill of Amen.
Ten thousand years ago on river shore
First Mother Amen stood on hill of words
beneath broad fruit tree of our aching hearts
and taught us how to sing the sacred hymn
that beams clear vision of our dreaming eyes
so we can agree on true view of life.
We all spread outward from her mother womb
in tangled grape vines of family bloodlines
to populate lush river vales with towns
where we all gather in town square at night
to share strange stories of our daily lives
like Amen taught us at the dawn of time.
Painted in complex map of your smiling face
through colorful features of skin and eyes
I perceive long journeys of your ancestors
where they dwelled in jungles, deserts, or mountains,
when they walked over dunes of sand or snow,
concealed by this mask of your secret name.
I want to sit with you in ring of stones
where song fire glows under the silver moon
and listen to your song of haunting words
that reveal your journey around the world
to understand why you are still alive,
then make love to live again in our children.
We spring from rich journeys of our ancestors
so our children will spring from our own journeys
and gather once again on hill of stories
where First Mother Amen stands tall forever
smiling as she teaches us how to sing
so our human song shines bright as the stars.
© Surazeus
2019 02 15
You nameless people I see everywhere,
walking around in world of dirt and air
or smiling from photos on social media,
contain whole history of our universe
recorded in pure animated flame
of conscious hope that glows in your cells.
I love you all, the way your faces glow
with bright consciousness of expressive love
which shimmers in halo of silent words
to light bright torch in hand of Liberty
ripping apart darkness of mute despair
so I can blaze new way to paradise.
Though I cannot stand on stage to perform
authoritarian role of the wise fool,
I sit alone in solitude of bookstores
to watch you live on social media sites,
reciting your stories in crowded rooms
to cheering audience of adoring friends.
Like flocks of birds swirl flashing in vast sky
to settle flapping wings in webs of trees
and twitter concepts of perceptive faith,
you nameless strangers of society
discuss events on social media sites
to program new world view of cosmic truth.
Each person moving in vast maze of Earth
springs from ancestors who traveled each life
far over landscape of lost memories
along gushing rivers to distant lands
on countless pathways around spinning world,
but all first sprang from Story Hill of Amen.
Ten thousand years ago on river shore
First Mother Amen stood on hill of words
beneath broad fruit tree of our aching hearts
and taught us how to sing the sacred hymn
that beams clear vision of our dreaming eyes
so we can agree on true view of life.
We all spread outward from her mother womb
in tangled grape vines of family bloodlines
to populate lush river vales with towns
where we all gather in town square at night
to share strange stories of our daily lives
like Amen taught us at the dawn of time.
Painted in complex map of your smiling face
through colorful features of skin and eyes
I perceive long journeys of your ancestors
where they dwelled in jungles, deserts, or mountains,
when they walked over dunes of sand or snow,
concealed by this mask of your secret name.
I want to sit with you in ring of stones
where song fire glows under the silver moon
and listen to your song of haunting words
that reveal your journey around the world
to understand why you are still alive,
then make love to live again in our children.
We spring from rich journeys of our ancestors
so our children will spring from our own journeys
and gather once again on hill of stories
where First Mother Amen stands tall forever
smiling as she teaches us how to sing
so our human song shines bright as the stars.
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