Beauty Of Light Beyond Things

Beauty Of Light Beyond Things
© Surazeus
2023 10 11

Far between searing dawn of mirrored faith 
and sunset sorrow drowned in moonlit tears 
she waits for church bells ringing in the dell 
before she steps outside to taste steel rain 
and smile about strange truth she cannot tell 
contained in beauty of light beyond things. 

Closing her eyes to bleak Idaho plain 
of winter gray grass beneath snow-sharp hills, 
Sophia dreams of gold-domed garden hall 
that gleams on lush hills of Byzantium 
where angels in white gowns play ivory harps 
and chant heavenly hymns of loyal love. 

When flaming wings of Phoenix spread dawn light 
in gleaming rainbow swirls across vast sky, 
Sophia feels ache of passion expand 
from pulsing core of Earth to spread swan wings 
and transcend mortal frame of clay on breath 
divine with selfless love to become stars. 

Green gryphon trotting among poppy blooms, 
scarlet with lips of lovers, flashes wings 
of mountain wind to wake from revery 
young housewife who ignores her cleaning chores, 
then sings uncanny tune of timeless joy 
that radiates from black radio by the stove. 

When long-haired hippy Christ of faith, who grins 
with holy wisdom of the far-out seer, 
emerges from too-high cathedral dome 
as cheerful carpenter on her front lawn, 
constructing parlor writing desk from pine, 
Sophia prays for salvation through love. 

Young child she bears in swirl of nine gold moons 
toddles around the house on wolfish feet 
while clutching hammer he found in the drawer, 
seeking to repair world of broken dreams 
with passionate glare and insistent frown 
of grim determination to be real. 

If I could fly on wings of Icarus, 
Sophia sings while playing piano tune, 
I would return home to Byzantium 
where wingless angels fallen from the moon 
guard widows and orphans in times of war 
from angry boys who wield aggressive guns. 

I would rather you choose the building tool 
to construct temples to wisdom and love, 
Sophia smiles to her curious son 
over eggs and toast, rather than the gun 
that kills the human soul with bitter rage, 
so you can host lost souls in home of truth.