Wedding Of Ophelia
© Surazeus
2018 07 28
Ophelia wearing glasses and black gown
plays piano on the wind-swirled sand dune,
explaining how the strange idea of flowers
glows inherent in raindrops of lost hope.
My mind is clear as the cloudless blue sky
where I wander with my eyes in ghost trees
and perish from the lonesomeness of want
when lightning plays music on my brain wires.
When Death transforms my life into her dream
and waves of light throw me back on the Earth,
my soul is swallowed by the starving cave
that casts shadow of my being on the world.
Every person I meet on winding road
of my life leading to the empty stage
gives me their whole world in weird words they lost
so I arrange them in Zodiac of Souls.
Alone in the desert where sad wind blows
she shows me beauty of all conscious souls
that shine like diamonds in clock of the world
which spins fourteen billion years nowhere fast.
Where shall I search for the Asphodel bloom
that spirals from skull of Persephone
who leads me to the Underworld of Truth
where Death demands I forget my real name?
Old grandfather wizard Tom Eliot
leads me through the bleak waste land of despair,
then dances naked around the Red Rock
and explains what the laughing thunder says.
Mad father wizard Robert Lowell
leads me to the lush graveyard of Nantucket
to reveal how God makes man from sea slime,
introducing me to Tenth Muse of Death.
Howling uncle wizard Allen Ginsberg
leads me laughing to Rocky Mountain peak
where we translate the terror in the wind
to wake the best minds of our generation.
Though we begin in wisdom of the truth,
and die in doubt of the lies preachers sell,
we rise reborn on wings Orpheus weaves
to sing magic spells from clear observation.
Dizzy on the merry-go-round of fate,
from endless cycle of idea and action,
I leap from silence to express my dreams
and spiral to the still point of the world.
The desert wizard who gained jeweled crown
of mad Neptune, wielding his rusty trident,
became the Fisher King with Holy Grail
who gave me wine when I became the sand.
My body disperses to whirling sand
when I dance with Ophelia in star light
to become every soul who ever lives
and sing words of languages lost in time.
At the window of the library hall
I watch human history on streets below
swirl four million years from the lake of dreams
and assemble into my body now.
I shall tag every verse I compose clear
with the pictograms of dreams Chin designed
when she leads me through the mist of Guilin
to the cavern where my first soul was born.
Three blind sages with thick glasses and suits
follow Ophelia across Sahara dunes
while I write their tales with water-light Runes
and seven daughters of Kwan Yin play flutes.
Athena places in my trembling hand
the sword of Arthur named Excalibur,
so I change it into the fountain pen
I wield to recreate Earth in my brain.
Saraswati places new lyre of Hermes
to vibrate in harmony with my heart
when I chant the tales of philosophers
who build the temple where we dream the truth.
Kwan Yin places the Grail of Magdalene
on the Round Table where I cast dream spells
to teach me secret of reincarnation
that generates new body for my genes.
Ophelia leads me to the apple grove
where she teaches me how to tame the horse
then crowns me Angelus of Planet Earth
so I chant dream spells in the cave of shadows.
The wind crosses the ancient land unheard,
whispering secrets only mad fools would know,
so I translate nothing of the human soul
into atomic words that glow with love.
The ghost who is the emptiness of love
reflects the image of the world I dream
so my eye becomes the sphere of the world,
green continent surrounded by blue sea.
After running fifty years through the maze,
where statues of the dead replay their lives,
I sit at the center of the labyrinth
to feel the Earth spinning inside my head.
The hollow men of the dead land clutch guns
and shoot each other in third civil war,
so once they are gone I rise from the dead
and sit with Ophelia in the White House.
The Nameless Bard in the Valley of Skulls
teaches us the name of the Faceless Goddess
who migrates through the vastness of the world,
becoming each person born from her womb.
Ophelia wearing crown and flower dress
kisses my mind on the wild mountain top,
explaining how the sweet idea of children
glows inherent in star-souls of my brain.
© Surazeus
2018 07 28
Ophelia wearing glasses and black gown
plays piano on the wind-swirled sand dune,
explaining how the strange idea of flowers
glows inherent in raindrops of lost hope.
My mind is clear as the cloudless blue sky
where I wander with my eyes in ghost trees
and perish from the lonesomeness of want
when lightning plays music on my brain wires.
When Death transforms my life into her dream
and waves of light throw me back on the Earth,
my soul is swallowed by the starving cave
that casts shadow of my being on the world.
Every person I meet on winding road
of my life leading to the empty stage
gives me their whole world in weird words they lost
so I arrange them in Zodiac of Souls.
Alone in the desert where sad wind blows
she shows me beauty of all conscious souls
that shine like diamonds in clock of the world
which spins fourteen billion years nowhere fast.
Where shall I search for the Asphodel bloom
that spirals from skull of Persephone
who leads me to the Underworld of Truth
where Death demands I forget my real name?
Old grandfather wizard Tom Eliot
leads me through the bleak waste land of despair,
then dances naked around the Red Rock
and explains what the laughing thunder says.
Mad father wizard Robert Lowell
leads me to the lush graveyard of Nantucket
to reveal how God makes man from sea slime,
introducing me to Tenth Muse of Death.
Howling uncle wizard Allen Ginsberg
leads me laughing to Rocky Mountain peak
where we translate the terror in the wind
to wake the best minds of our generation.
Though we begin in wisdom of the truth,
and die in doubt of the lies preachers sell,
we rise reborn on wings Orpheus weaves
to sing magic spells from clear observation.
Dizzy on the merry-go-round of fate,
from endless cycle of idea and action,
I leap from silence to express my dreams
and spiral to the still point of the world.
The desert wizard who gained jeweled crown
of mad Neptune, wielding his rusty trident,
became the Fisher King with Holy Grail
who gave me wine when I became the sand.
My body disperses to whirling sand
when I dance with Ophelia in star light
to become every soul who ever lives
and sing words of languages lost in time.
At the window of the library hall
I watch human history on streets below
swirl four million years from the lake of dreams
and assemble into my body now.
I shall tag every verse I compose clear
with the pictograms of dreams Chin designed
when she leads me through the mist of Guilin
to the cavern where my first soul was born.
Three blind sages with thick glasses and suits
follow Ophelia across Sahara dunes
while I write their tales with water-light Runes
and seven daughters of Kwan Yin play flutes.
Athena places in my trembling hand
the sword of Arthur named Excalibur,
so I change it into the fountain pen
I wield to recreate Earth in my brain.
Saraswati places new lyre of Hermes
to vibrate in harmony with my heart
when I chant the tales of philosophers
who build the temple where we dream the truth.
Kwan Yin places the Grail of Magdalene
on the Round Table where I cast dream spells
to teach me secret of reincarnation
that generates new body for my genes.
Ophelia leads me to the apple grove
where she teaches me how to tame the horse
then crowns me Angelus of Planet Earth
so I chant dream spells in the cave of shadows.
The wind crosses the ancient land unheard,
whispering secrets only mad fools would know,
so I translate nothing of the human soul
into atomic words that glow with love.
The ghost who is the emptiness of love
reflects the image of the world I dream
so my eye becomes the sphere of the world,
green continent surrounded by blue sea.
After running fifty years through the maze,
where statues of the dead replay their lives,
I sit at the center of the labyrinth
to feel the Earth spinning inside my head.
The hollow men of the dead land clutch guns
and shoot each other in third civil war,
so once they are gone I rise from the dead
and sit with Ophelia in the White House.
The Nameless Bard in the Valley of Skulls
teaches us the name of the Faceless Goddess
who migrates through the vastness of the world,
becoming each person born from her womb.
Ophelia wearing crown and flower dress
kisses my mind on the wild mountain top,
explaining how the sweet idea of children
glows inherent in star-souls of my brain.
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