Friday, January 17, 2025

Lark In The Pear Tree

Lark In The Pear Tree
© Surazeus
2025 01 17

Philip listens to lark in the pear tree 
discuss stone statues of dead royalty 
who lie in lonely tomb of Arundel 
while holding hands for all eternity 
together in cathedral of the damned 
that has not yet crumbled into bare ruins. 

Half-drunk in soundless dark of his despair, 
Philip stares at Death who always lurks near, 
unresting shadow of his vanity 
who likes to horrify his heart with hope 
that he might see truth in the morning glare 
without remorse for time torn off unused. 

Lured by total emptiness of forever, 
Philip considers with wretched amusement 
extinction of his self from everywhere, 
lost in blank always of his charity 
at terrible beauty of nothingness, 
yet climbs still from beginning of his wrongness. 

Watching the vast musical brocade of saints 
singing hymns about everlasting life, 
Philip chuckles sadly at spectacle 
of rational beings refusing to admit 
faith fails to dispel fear with pretty tricks, 
yet still they pretend we will never die. 

Drinking to ignore that unfocused blur 
that blinds him to bright ghost of heartless chill 
clutching at his soul with courageous hands, 
Philip analyzes every impulse 
that used to drive him with decisive faith 
to bury his false bravery in his grave. 

Reluctant to accept that he will die, 
as dawn light constructs shape of his desire, 
Philip stares at unringing telephone 
that clutches at his chest with bitter claws, 
and sneers with unearned wisdom of mute pain 
that Death remains indifferent to his thoughts. 

Accepting letter from the stoic postman, 
who goes from house to house with urgent care, 
Philip deciphers secret code of love 
to calculate with hungry eye of hope 
value of romantic relationships 
that constrain his body encased in stone. 

Running in his long coat over wet field, 
chasing pleasure of frantic happiness, 
Philip leaps up from gravity of fear 
to glide on wings he stole from Icarus, 
eager to avoid fall of Lucifer, 
till he lies songless in his placeless tomb. 


1 comment:

  1. Orpheus and Philip Larkin drink beer while watching the musical brocade of saints singing as they parade to the shining cathedral of faith.

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