Return To Hyrcania Sea

Return To Hyrcania Sea
© Surazeus
2024 02 15

Though I was born in land of Oregon, 
eight thousand miles from homeland of my heart 
in Hyrcania, land of silver-eyed wolves, 
I hear spirit of Anahita call me 
with whisper of morning wind in oak leaves 
to return on wings of hope to her groves. 

Strumming guitar and singing tales of hope, 
I journey east from lush land of my birth 
to cross the mighty Mississippi River 
just after I turn thirty-one years old 
and travel to windy Miami Beach 
so I can return to Hyrcania Sea. 

This current game of national politics, 
fought between descendants from John of Gaunt 
over who rules the American Empire, 
dissipates in the flowing winds of change 
that sweep around the Earth ten thousand years 
which lingers as mist in Hyrcania Woods. 

As global tides of political change 
upend institutions of old world orders, 
I long to return to Hyrcania Sea 
where I can walk in quiet misty woods 
and sing heart-aching hymns of changeless love 
for Anahita, sweet bride of my heart. 

Bright-eyed Sura Anahita, my bride, 
bears clay jar with water from well of dreams, 
with lotus flower that blooms from her heart, 
as she enters temple I built from stone 
to fill our cups with fresh water of life 
that sparkles in rain on Hyrcania Sea. 

Wise daughter of two world-nourishing rivers, 
Saraswati and Brahma of the east, 
and Sarah and Abraham of the west, 
Anahita gives me gold jeweled grail 
full of grape juice that fountains from the Earth, 
and bids me drink soul of Hyrcania Sea. 

The sunlit waters of Hyrcania Sea, 
though eight thousand miles from land of my birth, 
nurtures ancient blood that flows in my veins 
and sparkles in faith of my dreaming eyes, 
so, though I never return in this life 
to Hyrcania Sea, she glows in my heart. 

Forever glowing as sea of my heart, 
Hyrcania Sea energizes my soul 
with passion to savor beauty of life, 
and value treasures of this fertile Earth, 
yet wherever I roam in America 
I dream I return to Hyrcania Sea.