Saturday, July 8, 2023

Laughter Of The Wind

Laughter Of The Wind
© Surazeus
2023 07 08

The dark house stuck in laughter of the wind 
gives away its sad doors to lonely ghosts 
who place tattered leather gloves on the shelf 
where the old book, that contains the whole sky, 
explains with delight how our human hearts 
connect us to the original star. 

Though I lie on my back among tall trees 
I breathe eternal spirit of blue sky 
with errant passion for typewriter keys 
because the glittering bay wants to know why 
I dream about the origin of time 
that spirals into flowers of my mind. 

If sunlight waiting in the window glass 
can bear the weight of human destiny 
to unspool concept of the flowing clock 
then I will pause in silent mountain woods 
to think about relationship of waves 
that depicts bike wheels spinning in blue sky. 

Each stone that wanders on the ocean shore 
would like to tell me journey of its hope 
from center of the Earth on wings of fire 
where they dream forty million years alone 
till I arrive from shadow of blue sky 
to hold its glamor in my curious hand. 

When trees discuss their wind philosophy 
I translate strange dialect of the grave 
through moment of intense silence I feel 
speed of the galloping horse in my heart 
that clacks in concord with the printing press 
controlling chaos through serenity. 

That photo that records beauty of youth 
describes how my subterranean eye 
contrives complex labyrinth of our myths 
providing template for my mundane birth 
though workers trapped in old telephone books 
swallow their names with sudden swirls of snow. 

My heart that beats in harmony with waves 
wears secret armor of black dragon scales 
because lies are truths that I never speak 
while I live with weird stories of the past 
unhaunted by nameless ancestral ghosts 
whose absence glimmers in genes of my soul. 

We are the silent pause between our tales 
that leave us stranded in museum halls 
because the world we knew when we were young 
vanished in unwatched television shows 
that flicker on walls of ideal caves 
because my dark house laughs in morning wind. 


No comments:

Post a Comment