Blue Of Infinite Time
© Surazeus
2018 03 19
When I cover my face with the gold mask
of the famous poet, I would confess
family-borne angst as virus of despair,
and drink ginger ale brewed from blood of truth.
Walking in the blue of infinite time,
I toughen my heart against mocking jokes
that charge me up with honest energy
to fight cruel insults with indifferent grace.
Brushing wind-blown hair from her flushing cheek,
the goddess of the sea channels green waves
through her eyes to fill abyss of my heart
with infinite love her soul generates.
Each thought about nature of Earth and Man
flashes epiphany through formal clues
how action calculates cause and effect
I capture with formula from word spells.
Drifting half-asleep one moment of why,
I see the face of the one I once loved,
so I snap awake and open front door
to see the ghost of blue infinite sky.
I think you have the kind and loving heart
that will not let you hurt those who hurt you,
but you must speak to deflect their sharp words
and shield your heart with calm indifferent grace.
Predators stalk the world, thirsting for blood,
so the innocent who love generous peace
must fight the fighter to defend their right
to drink the water of infinite hope.
My father photographs exotic birds
and races cars he built from bones of wolves,
so I note every sign along the way
that leads bold fools to the castle of skulls.
The Muse who gushes visions through my brain
speaks only arcane riddles I invent
that no one reads, so no one will receive
breath of infinite blue that mirrors you.
The owl with eyes gold as the windless lake
reveals true stories that we tried to hide
through hope exacerbated by desire
to rule as incarnation of your dead god.
I have traveled twenty-two thousand miles
across the continent of Onatah,
searching for Arcadia in my heart,
which far across the Eastern Sea calls me.
I stop in the door to balance the light
changing moods dialed by weather of my hope
to flick through channels that conceal the truth
in metaphors packaged by hands of jokers.
I cannot solve the puzzle of your face
assembled from ennui of each lost place
so I let the order of chaos flow
in gold honey dripping from Tree of Life.
Are we now halfway through the labyrinth
where faces in the ancient gallery
appeal for me to wear each one in turn
till I dream everyone who ever lived?
Huddled in the grove after snow melts brown,
the blind poet scribbles verses on leaves
that blow away in the indifferent wind
so lost people can see map he conceived.
I follow sweet song of sirens in rain
into the true blue of infinite time
when I sense ghost of her words in my brain
concealed by riddle of my paradigm.
© Surazeus
2018 03 19
When I cover my face with the gold mask
of the famous poet, I would confess
family-borne angst as virus of despair,
and drink ginger ale brewed from blood of truth.
Walking in the blue of infinite time,
I toughen my heart against mocking jokes
that charge me up with honest energy
to fight cruel insults with indifferent grace.
Brushing wind-blown hair from her flushing cheek,
the goddess of the sea channels green waves
through her eyes to fill abyss of my heart
with infinite love her soul generates.
Each thought about nature of Earth and Man
flashes epiphany through formal clues
how action calculates cause and effect
I capture with formula from word spells.
Drifting half-asleep one moment of why,
I see the face of the one I once loved,
so I snap awake and open front door
to see the ghost of blue infinite sky.
I think you have the kind and loving heart
that will not let you hurt those who hurt you,
but you must speak to deflect their sharp words
and shield your heart with calm indifferent grace.
Predators stalk the world, thirsting for blood,
so the innocent who love generous peace
must fight the fighter to defend their right
to drink the water of infinite hope.
My father photographs exotic birds
and races cars he built from bones of wolves,
so I note every sign along the way
that leads bold fools to the castle of skulls.
The Muse who gushes visions through my brain
speaks only arcane riddles I invent
that no one reads, so no one will receive
breath of infinite blue that mirrors you.
The owl with eyes gold as the windless lake
reveals true stories that we tried to hide
through hope exacerbated by desire
to rule as incarnation of your dead god.
I have traveled twenty-two thousand miles
across the continent of Onatah,
searching for Arcadia in my heart,
which far across the Eastern Sea calls me.
I stop in the door to balance the light
changing moods dialed by weather of my hope
to flick through channels that conceal the truth
in metaphors packaged by hands of jokers.
I cannot solve the puzzle of your face
assembled from ennui of each lost place
so I let the order of chaos flow
in gold honey dripping from Tree of Life.
Are we now halfway through the labyrinth
where faces in the ancient gallery
appeal for me to wear each one in turn
till I dream everyone who ever lived?
Huddled in the grove after snow melts brown,
the blind poet scribbles verses on leaves
that blow away in the indifferent wind
so lost people can see map he conceived.
I follow sweet song of sirens in rain
into the true blue of infinite time
when I sense ghost of her words in my brain
concealed by riddle of my paradigm.
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