Wednesday, August 16, 2023

Uncanny Truth Of Love

Uncanny Truth Of Love
© Surazeus
2023 08 16

Because she loves the river that would kill her 
she places her fractured skull on the bookshelf 
so children who want to read her sad story 
can see their faces in mirror of hope, 
veiled by Death in black wind-fluttered cape 
who poses for the style magazine cover. 

While April in denim skirt and black boots 
smiles with sweet charming joy for ache of life, 
she plays heart-enchanting tune on the harp 
and sings about uncanny truth of love 
that every lonely human feels inside 
since wind likes to play with her messy hair. 

Each apple falling from the Tree of Knowledge 
contains sweet tears of rain that angels weep, 
so she chats with the rainbow-feathered serpent 
about why people need to be in love 
while living this one wild and precious life, 
recording our drama with photographs. 

If she would dare defy authority 
with dedication to untwisted truth, 
April catches tears of rain devils steal 
with bottles forged from gold Sahara sands, 
then sells them at her booth in Samarkand 
to all the lonely people without faces. 

She wants to climb tall mountains of Gui Lin, 
amazed at waterfall of sparkling light 
that gushes from high Cavern of Illusions, 
but she gets new job at the magazine 
about the latest fashions women wear 
by wearing porcelain mask of fake beauty. 

While photographing torso of Apollo, 
that glows with inner light of divine beauty, 
April decides that she must change her life, 
so she hitchhikes on signless road of faith 
three years from Manhattan to Patagonia 
while she plays harp on busy city streets. 

Gazing into gushing river of fear 
while Charon waits for her to choose her fate, 
April sits beneath the dead Tree of Life 
and plays heart-aching elegy with rage 
for all the good people killed in world wars 
whose ghosts haunt her from pages of old books. 

Holding hands with Death, whose ruby eyes gleam 
with blood of every soul who ever lives, 
April walks across shifting dunes of sand 
that bury hundred million televisions 
in dust that swirls from bodies of the dead 
whose voices whisper on her singing tongue. 


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