Singer Of Tales

Singer Of Tales
© Surazeus
2025 02 01

Though sometimes in the timeless light of faith 
I seem not to know who I really am, 
I look back on signless road of my life 
to map adventure of my hidden path 
which shows progress of my journey toward hope, 
elusive star that lead me to myself. 

Though I cannot keep pace with my own star, 
which I decided is my guiding light 
as beacon chosen randomly from chart 
of constellated fate, I mold my heart 
with wings I found in wild Icarian Sea 
floating in pool of energetic blood. 

Inspired by weird complex ontology 
of imaginary vision, supplied 
by fairy tales compiled in holy books, 
I pluck apple of wisdom from the Tree 
of Knowledge that blooms from the corpse of God 
to taste the truth that everybody dies. 

When I was four years old in the same year 
astronauts first walked on the dusty moon, 
I sat by the Christmas tree with my sister 
and cousins one cold Texas winter night, 
cheering our grandfather, the famous singer 
in the Kings Heralds, dressed as Santa Claus. 

Recognizing humorous gleam of his eyes, 
I concluded my grandfather is God, 
or Odin who bears bag of precious gifts 
to enrich all the people of the world 
with generous compassion of his heart, 
bringing food to people buried in snow. 

Twenty-five full years later I hitchhiked 
sea to shining sea across this vast land 
and played guitar Seattle to Miami, 
chanting tales about curious wanderers 
forever lost on signless road of hope 
ten thousand years Scythia to Oregon. 

Escaping cloistered walls of paradise, 
I journeyed back east along the same road 
my ancestors traveled west in wheeled wagons 
to colonize the fertile Promised Land, 
found my wife on the other side of Earth, 
and raise our children now in Dixieland. 

While mapping virtual model of the world, 
I wrote grand epic of philosophers 
that depicts foundation of Academia, 
and thus have learned true nature of my soul, 
Singer of Tales in Library of Angels, 
wingless angel in Land of Onatah.