Bloom From Cosmic Dust

Bloom From Cosmic Dust
© Surazeus
2024 05 19

More weary than time-vanished castle walls, 
thoughtful as ravens on telephone lines, 
I stare out window of suburban house 
at tall unmoving oaks that wait for me 
to play dramatic role assigned by fate 
though I choose to never participate. 

Though particles of light curl into balls 
that condense the big bang in jewel mines, 
I feel tense nonchalance beside my spouse 
who wears light-gleaming robe of Liberty 
while I sail the wild sea in fragile boat 
back to misty isle of the prudent goat. 

Less happy than dream-fractured temple rooms, 
cunning as jesters in theater shows, 
I weave resourceful vision of the past 
with diligent attention to how fools 
scam each other with cryptic currency 
in desperate attempt to fake potency. 

Since chemicals of brains nurture state tombs 
that feature genuine wisdom of the rose, 
I conjure fable for the world broadcast 
presenting how mankind invented tools 
which should encourage psychic agency 
to make new tales that fill soul vacancy. 

After shameless adjacency of trust, 
staged by beloved friends of wingless planes, 
I stir fierce courage deep in cordial pond 
to rise as hairy monster of my mind 
through battle to control the narrative 
based firm on the global imperative. 

Yet families strolling shady streets of faith 
on Sunday afternoons of secure pride 
wave to my shadow behind mirror glass 
when I declare global emergency 
by exploiting disaster of warfare 
to claim gold crown forged by the mother bear. 

Before our bodies bloom from cosmic dust 
to program world view in conceptual brains, 
I crawl from abyss where our souls were spawned 
to forest grove where dead god lies enshrined 
so I can understand how I should live 
in commercial game of create and give. 

Therefore I rise as television wraith 
from magic wand that Fame prefers to hide 
so I can calculate atomic mass 
required to value social currency, 
then shift dream-gears of my electric car 
so I can bring Phoebus his lost guitar.