Ground We Dwell Upon

Ground We Dwell Upon
© Surazeus
2025 03 05

I hear no angels call from sunken ships 
that went down in sudden erratic storms 
thousands of years ago in wine-dark seas, 
so I bring their statues back up to land 
where they stand in museums of soft light 
and wear stone masks of divine dignity. 

I feel my laughter flow in roots of trees 
to transform sorrow from excited dust 
as time converts rain to new languages 
spoken by young tribes wandering the Earth 
without knowing they will stop by the lake 
and build the first city to hide despair. 

Tall oak tree alone in the open field 
asks me to bring her fresh mushrooms and eggs, 
so I climb the mountain of singing stones 
to measure the distance from birth to death 
where children leap from bushes in surprise 
and dance around me as they wave their arms. 

Happy in this timeless place of sad trees 
that cover me with leaves of tender hope, 
I watch empires of power rise and fall 
along flowing rivers ten thousand years 
while I write names of their glorious kings 
on dry brown leaves that crumble in the wind. 

Small frozen sun calls me across the field 
where gold wheat stalks whisper alluring lies, 
so I walk alone beyond garden walls 
where weeping angels keep watch at midnight 
to protect their families from hungry thieves 
who steal everything we make with our hands. 

While the old woman in the long black dress 
who stands on rocky cliff above the sea 
plays heart-enchanting music of starlight 
on vibrating strings of the violin, 
millions of people are born from our eyes 
who walk together on the bridge of lies. 

When divine kings in grand tombs are exhumed 
we find their flesh has withered into dust 
and their bones are fragile as angel wings, 
but the crowns with jewels they wore with pride 
still gleam with immortal glory of power, 
though we have forgotten their names and deeds. 

I search for angels in the apple tree 
and find young children wild with joy for life, 
so I play songs with lyre of Mercury 
to sing about great heroes of the past 
whose visions shape how we perceive the world 
for their minds are the ground we dwell upon.