Estranged From Language

Estranged From Language
© Surazeus
2024 02 02

The faceless face that I see on the sun 
is not the God that humans hope is real 
for it is nothing more than mask of love 
my brain invents from faces of the dead 
estranged from language they spoke while alive 
which now sparkles inside my dreaming brain. 

The mindless mind that I dream in the sky 
is not the God that birds desire to know 
for I am nothing more than flame of hope 
that faintly flickers in wild storm of time, 
estranged from language of my howling tongue 
that tingles with blackberry juice of fate. 

The voiceless voice that I hear in the wind 
is not the God who sings inside my brain 
for words are nothing more than grunts of faith 
that this strange world my eyes perceive is real, 
estranged from language my breath explicates, 
mimicked by virtual world my brain designs. 

The soulless soul that I feel in my brain 
is not the God who creates ideal forms 
as molds for seething waves of molecules 
to swirl through spirals of aggressive hope, 
estranged from language of self-conscious gods 
who sing and dance around the blazing fire. 

The maskless mask that I wear on my face 
is not the God who names itself as God 
when I evolve from hydrothermal vent, 
fish to lizard to mouse to cat to ape, 
estranged from language as the wingless angel 
who struts the spinning Earth with honest pride. 

The wordless word that I speak with sea waves 
is not the God who dreams the universe 
though I eat mushrooms in the cave of ghosts, 
then sing creation of my conscious brain 
estranged from language of the weird first flash 
to become Supersoul of the White Whole. 

The homeless home that I build with my bones 
is not the God who shelters refugees 
who wander nowhere on the spinning Earth 
to find Spirit Lake where the sun is born, 
estranged from language of land ownership, 
yet colonize lush vales of apple trees.  

The nameless name that I invent from code 
is not the God who programs human brains 
to think this mess of life and death is good 
where people kill each other for the truth, 
estranged from language of the lonely mother 
who waits for us all night by the warm hearth.