Sunday, October 15, 2023

When I Pretend To Fly

When I Pretend To Fly
© Surazeus
2023 10 15

The winding path of infinite desire 
that leads through misty woods of somewhere else 
takes me past so many half-open doors 
that I forget what birds are trying to say 
when they explain the fertile life of trees 
since I would live alone in garden cottage. 

The obligations of social welfare 
that humans shoulder in bustle of hope 
form armor I wear to protect my soul 
when I search through delirium of fear 
that blinds my eyes with sunlight in rain clouds 
though I carry your angelic tears 
in leaky bucket of my aching heart. 

The voice that calls my name across wheat field 
restores my faith in kindness of strange eyes 
that follow me beyond the edge of time 
where unseen vistas blossom from blank thoughts 
so my view of this world expands at flash 
of sunlight piercing my heart with compassion. 

The joy of silent passion for new life 
cries out from quarry of lost promises 
where hidden stones of gold wait for my grasp 
to change my fortune with intense respect 
for how far I fall from exploding cloud 
to spill my wordless sorrow in the lake. 

The ardent faith of hope hangs in my brain 
with numbered seasons of the flashing sun 
that burns far inward to dark pit of faith 
where measured pain contrives how I respond 
to tears of lovers flooding fields of rage 
since I leave lost dreams in my fractured bones. 

The mortal state of sheltered arrogance 
marks off old calendar of secret rites 
recounting process of my ageless mind 
that cannot stop decay of hungry flesh 
though I seethe hot with hope beneath the sun 
from eager faith that I will bloom again. 

The winds of autumn dancing on lake waves 
express sad creak of wood boat on the shore 
that urges dawn to beckon me from dream 
so my feet crunch old melody of stones 
when I pass horses of the dew-soaked farm 
where blueberries still gleam by the pine fence. 

The mask of my face smiling on the oak 
extends sword tongue with diamond eyes of fire 
so I see beauty in this world of foul decay 
which I express through river song of light 
in harmony with curves of flapping wings 
when I pretend to fly with moon-black ravens. 


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