Great Speech Of Sophistry

Great Speech Of Sophistry
© Surazeus
2024 12 08

The past is the fiction of memory, 
the future is the fiction of desire, 
while the present moment of timelessness 
is the fiction of sensory perception, 
all of which I package in this neat spell 
I sing while strumming lyre of Mercury. 

I wander nowhere by the moaning sea 
till Fame appears from waves of ecstasy 
and offers two items, bidding me choose 
heart-warming Robe of Sorrow in the truth 
or head-shining Crown of Fame in the world, 
so I choose the robe, and keep on alone. 

Discontent with the mystery of existence, 
I struggle numb against skeptical winds 
to strain up towering mountain of faith 
in vain effort of breathless fantasy 
for unattainable beauty of truth 
that blinds my eyes with sunlight of true love. 

While still alive in fragile frame of flesh 
I rise from mortal hull of this vast world 
as singing ghost of cosmic unity 
to praise connected matrix of our minds 
which manifest divinity of atoms 
in these organic bodies with weird brains. 

As four-legged creature walking upright 
with stiff procedure of quaint discipline, 
I am but one small fly of buzzing song 
on maiden face of Earth whose stormy hand 
brushes entire cities into the sea 
with casual indifference of respect. 

Feeling immortally omniscient as God 
inside the fragile eggshell of my skull, 
I glow with confidence of conscious joy 
that I know secrets of divinity 
since I embody energy of stars 
in temporary dream-flame of my brain. 

All day I gaze out at this teeming world 
less organized or fair than my vast brain 
big enough to contain brave multitudes 
of souls who chase elusive butterfly 
of knowledge that leads us trapped in the maze 
of national religious ideologies. 

Stuck at dead-end of patriotic faith, 
lost in maze of the American Empire, 
Balder reaches out his hand from the stage 
to proclaim some great speech of sophistry, 
but falters from spasmodic ecstasy, 
and laughs at postmodern absurdity.