Statues Of Old Gods

Statues Of Old Gods
© Surazeus
2022 12 23

Statues of old gods long lost in the sea 
walk streets of every city on the Earth. 
In the average faces of normal people 
who walk around me in churches and stores 
I see faces of gods in human form, 
filled with ancestral spirit of their dreams. 

If you drag from the sea in fishing net 
marble statue of my ancestral god, 
clean muck of time off surface of its soul 
and stand it once again in temple hall 
so I can feel its soul vibrate through me 
with blank eyes that stare beyond veil of death. 

Though trapped inside the egg shell of its form 
ancestral god of my soul wills to break 
free from conceptual image of lost myths 
so I can become my seminal self. 
This face that masks my original soul 
traps my spirit in some preordained role. 

With contemplative quietness of hope 
I stand in hushed museum hall to feel 
original soul of my cosmic mind 
vibrating in statue with my first face. 
The story of my mortal life began 
with gene coils at the bottom of the sea. 

Harsh aching tension wound inside my flesh 
seethes with passion of paramount desire 
to transcend fragile system of frail bones 
contained by state of surging chemicals 
that motivate my progress to evolve 
from fish to wingless angel of the Earth. 

Though marble statue carved by caring hands 
replicates ideal form of human being 
to imitate special nature of me 
I keep evolving beyond who I was. 
I stare at statue of me in the hall 
and almost think I hear soft echo call. 

Looking back at mirror on the time wall 
I see ten million copies of my face 
recede back along my ancestral soul 
so I see every person I have been 
on my million-year journey to be me, 
hungry as I sing by indifferent sea. 

The sea keeps singing melodies of love 
long before I rise from the lake of dreams, 
and keeps on singing with each surging flow 
long after I vanish from pool of genes. 
I stand on sea shore to see Mother Night 
emanate from statues as divine light.