Sunday, August 18, 2024

Infant In The White Moon

Infant In The White Moon
© Surazeus
2024 08 18

When the three-eyed infant in the white moon 
has grown up into the person I am, 
the ghost of my mother by the pear tree, 
who sings with lamentation of the thrush, 
gives me the dark quietness of the window 
that frames the world view I design from rain. 

Since my long childhood was not desolate, 
the silver fish in the river of skulls 
teaches me how to write letters in words 
which chain elusive thoughts with raven wings 
so I can track herds of horses that race 
laughing through ruins of churches at dawn. 

While I hold icy hand of my blind mother, 
who leads me across churchyard of orange sheets, 
I calculate distance of curving road 
that leads us through forest of leafless boughs 
at sudden horror of the ringing bell 
that agitates sacred runes in the well. 

No shepherds now keep watch in frosty fields, 
though towers of Seattle gleam in mist 
while carolers sing of the long-dead king 
whose second coming in silver-winged plane 
leaves me stranded at gates of Nineveh 
where I fall in love with wise Onatah. 

Beneath vault of shade from the walnut tree 
I study delicate structure of snowflakes 
to comprehend grand scheme of the Cloud God 
who sends rosy angel with golden curls 
to give me Book of Death and fountain pen 
so I can write stories of kings and fools. 

I listen for the silver voice of stars 
to analyze madness of the proud warrior, 
but all I hear is sad song of the river 
expressing strangeness of the world elite 
in croak of the toad on the red mushroom 
when shadow of the angel follows me. 

While lounging by old river of the mind 
I ponder mystery of the wordless air 
that vibrates with faceless ghosts of our friends 
who investigate primal egg of thought 
to find new-born daughter of the Cloud God 
whose father Orpheus eats the last pear. 

Orpheus is infant of the white moon, 
born from gentle laughter of story books 
to teach humans with encouraging jokes 
not to fear stark finality of death 
which no organic soul-being can escape 
except by planting pear seeds by the lake. 


1 comment:

  1. Orpheus searches for his mother in the forest of dead pear trees.

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