Christina Crawls Nowhere

Christina Crawls Nowhere
© Surazeus
2016 07 30

Wind swirls in random circles without hope
over vast prairie slopes of brittle grass
on sun-blistered hills where no frail trees grow,
and lingers in the breath of an old woman.

Trembling from cold wind in tattered pink dress,
Christina digs fingers in ancient soil
and crawls through grass of aching sorrow slow
toward wood house that creaks on the gleaming hill.

I want to enter her overcast world,
where her heart beats strong with determined will,
as she lingers staring at blank gray sky,
and carry her close to my faithful breast.

Staring at the painting on glossy page
that shows Christina crawling tawny hill
toward empty horizon of nameless hope,
I want to touch her face and kiss her lips.

I whisper in quiet library hall,
though I am twelve and will live many years,
my soul is stuck forever in her world,
longing to hold Christina in my arms.

I push through glass door in hot Texas sun
and ride my bike on college campus walk,
then pause and stare at distant sun-lit hill
where forever Christina crawls nowhere.

Holy Cave Of Hope

Holy Cave Of Hope
© Surazeus
2016 07 24

Though we hide in cave of fear twenty years
we weave the ancient stars into our eyes
and follow rivers fountained by our tears
to build secret homes under nameless skies.

We leave her sleeping in the cave of dreams,
our mother who sailed over storm-wild seas,
and take our children along sunlit streams
to play in flower meadow with cool breeze.

Yet every winter when the snows fall white
we gather in the holy cave of hope
to sing around the ever-glowing light
and feel the moon shining on the steep slope.

Expanding my soul beyond its dark space,
I wander through the endless silent maze
and gaze in the pool that reflects my face
where Mary taught us solemn hymns of praise.

Our father reigned as king on distant throne
until the empire hung him on the cross
so now I wander in these woods alone
and feel no sorrow for that bitter loss.

I plant the seed of our house in new soil
and tend the tree of Jesse that sprouts tall
from hills of Gaul at my devoted toil,
protecting our haven with secure wall.

Our nation spreads out from that holy cave
so we build watch towers and reign as kings
two thousand years with the Grail and the Clave,
building new vast empire with swords and rings.

The holy Blood of Israel in our veins
flows from the womb of Mary to all tribes
who lead all peoples free from hateful chains
in wars for freedom chronicled by scribes.

When all are free from superstitious faith
and every king who reigns with tyranny
is overthrown to banish divine wraith,
we build one-world way of democracy.

We fought old empire of social control
but built new empire of faith in dead god,
so when I step on stage I play new role,
crownless king with writing pen as my rod.

My ancestors over two thousand years
traveled from the Holy Cave of Hope west
so now I drive swift car with spinning gears
and sit with my family in quiet rest.

We live now while our father-god is dead,
so, though their spirits glow within our hearts,
today we sit to drink wine and eat bread
and plot our future course on global charts.

Glowing Hearth Of My Bride

Glowing Hearth Of My Bride
© Surazeus
2016 07 05

When fluid moonlight gleams through dreaming trees
beyond stone wall where apple trees bloom full
I run through swirling mist while blinking eyes
guide my way to glowing hearth of my bride.

I wake from this sweet dream of paradise
just as I wrap arms around her waist
and her soft lips dissolve at flash of dawn
far away from glowing hearth of my bride.

I shiver as we march in pouring rain,
clutch our rifles to terror-beating hearts,
and gasp for breath when we shoot into mist,
fighting to protect glowing hearth of my bride.

I scream like wild wolf and race into fire
and stab too many men in blinding rage,
then stand alone among heaps of dead men,
dreaming about glowing hearth of my bride.

Last man standing on battlefield of hate,
I crown myself king of corpses and ghosts,
and parade in triumph through hell in search
forever for glowing hearth of my bride.

In foul swamps of rotting corpses I trudge,
over hot deserts of cracked skulls I crawl,
and through tangled woods I struggle for hope,
but never find glowing hearth of my bride.

Stop in this vale on your journey for wealth,
all you who travel so far from your home,
and hear tale of my loss whispered in wind
how I searched for glowing hearth of my bride.

Though no traces remain on field of grass
by river that sparkles by glow of stars,
here in these trees once stood strong home I built
and you might find glowing hearth of my bride.

Puzzle Of Paradise

Puzzle Of Paradise
© Surazeus
2016 07 03

Who flee the flames that destroy broken homes
and wander dusty roads that go nowhere
when men with swords, guns, and official laws
pulverize the puzzle of paradise.

I stare at white walls in my clean safe home,
ignoring news on television screen
that conceal how more bombs in distant towns
pulverize the puzzle of paradise.

Every new day another bomb explodes
and hundreds of people with pulsing hearts
cry as masks become birds when angry flames
pulverize the puzzle of paradise.

I carve lost names and stories of their lives
on trunks of dead trees with cracked fingernails
so mute angels will sing how greedy men
pulverize the puzzle of paradise.

Actions Of Honest Love

Actions Of Honest Love
© Surazeus
2016 06 30

Though all the world seems mad with hungry hope
for magic formula that will transform
seething turmoil of our societies
from constant contests, to achieve great skills
in struggle for dominance to rule land,
into productive paradise of peace
were everyone thrives and fulfills desires,
no savior will descend on whirling disk
from clouds of fire to raise everyone from death
and never will transform this messy world
into Elysium of justice for all,
thus our actions must activate process
of honest love so we ever evolve.