Unseen Presence Of Death

Unseen Presence Of Death
© Surazeus
2024 10 02

When, after searching tangled woods of shadows, 
I find my sorrows submerged in clear depths 
beneath the fragile creaking bridge of hope, 
I dive in turbid memories of despair 
to hide them deeper still in sunless cave 
where no one can retrieve them from my heart. 

With bees that swirl in angled beams of light 
around the rosemary bush of lost faith, 
I seek strange signal pulsing in my brain 
which radiates from radar of cautious sense 
to warn me with vague taste of bitter gloom 
that Death lingers near like the open door. 

Since I first sensed unseen presence of Death 
when I was nine years old in the back yard, 
she has become the best friend I know well, 
always watching over me with dark eyes 
as sentinel who guides my daily trek 
on signless road toward destiny I choose. 

Seeking Dream Lake of my soul genesis, 
where our First Mother rose from lightless deep 
to sing enchanting spell of blooming trees, 
I trace her journey to the Promised Land 
four hundred million years of gene rebirth 
to map evolution through myths to me. 

Each daughter who emerges from her mother 
returns from distant valley of our ghosts 
to give me fruit she stole from Tree of Life 
so we survive cosmic catastrophes 
with each new life of hope we generate 
so we can map the world we navigate. 

Since I am undulation the sea sings 
with heart-enchanting melody of sirens, 
I multiply my soul through generations 
of children who spread out across the globe 
to weave our conscious mind in radiant web 
that rings in harmony with cosmic tunes. 

Awed to hum in vast cathedral of trees, 
I stretch my arms to imitate swan wings 
so my heart dilates wide as the mountain sky 
to bind whole hours between eternity 
with yellow motion of conceptual thoughts 
designed to shape my body with weird water. 

When I emerge from tangled woods of fear, 
heart pulsing with shadows of hungry words, 
I gesture fingers to control storm clouds 
that drench lonely hills in torrents of hope, 
then give fruit, my sorrows transformed to joy, 
with open hands to strangers without names.