Tuesday, November 5, 2024

Hopeful Spirit Grieves

Hopeful Spirit Grieves
© Surazeus
2024 11 05

With contemplative strolls on dismal days 
among tall oak trees dropping withered leaves 
my heart expands on wings of ardent ways 
when I hear how the hopeful spirit grieves 
for ways of living lost to passing years, 
yet enchanting songs are watered by tears. 

Just as I reach the door that feels my pain, 
carved with runes of spells secret witches cast, 
I pause in sudden misting of moon rain 
to search for some strange treasure of the past, 
though lights of houses glow in evening gloom 
with frantic silence of impending doom. 

Awake in bright-lit horror of time bliss, 
my lithe heart leaping as the curious hawk, 
I recall all the people I still miss 
though masks of their faces under the rock 
rise slowly high on gauze-shadowy wings, 
conjured by soft whisper of magic rings. 

Each crooked house along the avenue, 
half-hidden among fluttering leaves of elms, 
glows with ghostly candles of unknown Who, 
whose tremulous voice sings enchanting psalms 
that float with casual sorrow of mute snows 
in misty meadows of indifferent crows. 

When I open pageless book of dream codes 
to analyze my ever-changing map 
of truths about who names connective roads, 
I realize religious faith is the trap 
that keeps me wandering in the maze of myths 
enclosing Hell with god-charged monoliths. 

Elected by people clinging to fear, 
I promise them that I will legislate 
social programs which enlist the sincere 
in line with criterion of global fate, 
till angry thieves shoot bullets at my head 
because I give everyone milk and bread. 

So when cathedral bells of sorrow chime 
we gather by old river of the dead 
and write their names on water of lost time 
which traps their spirits in our dreaming head 
to nourish hope for the future we share 
as one world family dwelling everywhere. 

With hymn books open on the misty shore 
we sing contentiously in global choir, 
then I wander across the ghostly moor 
lonely as the cloud of divine desire, 
writing songs of my heart on leaves of faith 
that swirl away in breath of the star-wraith. 


1 comment:

  1. Orpheus speaks at the social gathering of the richest people in the country as he runs for President of the United States of Zarathia.

    ReplyDelete