Thursday, September 5, 2024

Mirror Maze Of Eyes

Mirror Maze Of Eyes
© Surazeus
2024 09 05

I see the same view of the world each day 
I wake from tangled forest of the dream, 
so I name every object I perceive 
by defining qualities of its form 
till shadow of the word reflects the thing 
while I wander in mirror maze of eyes. 

Carnival echoes of the midnight sun 
cuts lateral beams of rainbows without names 
across naked curves of fugitive lands 
where people, stranded on the signless road, 
gamble with Death to change their destiny, 
still fruitless in lightness of passing time. 

Because the True Way to the Promised Land 
is never clear on any psychic map, 
I build cloud-castles from dreams people lose 
so they almost remember how to breathe 
despite the filth of hope that poisons hearts 
of children who play games of war and peace. 

With each new level of anxiety, 
that I achieve evolving past my soul, 
I plan to savor moments of insight 
my ancestors cherish at hour of death 
so I can seize strange treasures of the past 
to fuel my journey home to Avalon. 

Becoming me I never knew exists 
with each rebirth from madness of despair, 
I hold hurtful words people hurl at me 
in bleeding hands to understand mute pain 
they hide inside their hearts so I can grow 
angel wings of forgiveness from their hate. 

After stopping to think about how time 
dilates voices of the dead in fake poems, 
I stroll past open doors to give away 
names I design that signify my growth 
to strangers startled by the artifact 
purporting to be laughing skull of Hamlet. 

Though she died thirty thousand years ago, 
the Beauty Queen who gave me Sword of Truth 
still walks beside me on my sacred quest 
to find the Holy Grail inside her heart 
that she employs to weave matrix of souls 
from protoplast that links our brains with stars. 

Programming concept of the semaphore 
with books that burn in Library of Fate, 
I contemplate weird mystery of the Earth 
to measure formal idea of each thing 
with fractured wisdom of divine respect, 
for we are angels of the cosmic quark. 


1 comment:

  1. Orpheus proclaims himself to be the new Emperor of American Poetry.

    ReplyDelete