If I Find God In Apples

If I Find God In Apples
© Surazeus
2025 04 26

If I find God in apples of the tree, 
and not in empty weirdness of the sky, 
I cut the apple in half with sharp knife 
but find instead the shining harvest moon 
where butterfly angel with ardent wings 
flies immaculate city of the dead. 

Astonished by secret light of the heart 
that names dead bodies in the city streets, 
I sing love tunes to the sad pregnant moon 
who lounges on the broad beach at midnight 
after the dream-trippers all fall asleep 
swimming in hallucinations of words. 

Loud voices of teenagers in the dark 
expose awkward passion to transcend fear 
by gambling with fate to win the lost key 
that opens every house door in the world 
depicted in the million-dollar movie 
written with broken pencil of the ghost. 

Excruciating silence of the sea 
hisses frantic with radiator voice 
despite ceramic flower pots on the sill 
that dream the rainy nights of Arkansas 
depicted in the film where ever soul 
who thinks they will live forever still dies. 

When enormity of this moment shocks 
even the cynical prophet of doom, 
I walk toward the paralyzed king of greed 
whose face will vanish in the swirling fog 
that shrouds skyscrapers of the world empire 
when curse of blood drips down windows of glass. 

Fragile shadow of passionate respect 
extends conceptual door of skeletons 
to welcome son of Jupiter to Hell 
where he stars in the movie about Death 
who breaks our bodies into pulsing atoms 
which migrate dirt to fruit to human brain. 

I gather emptiness of naked hearts 
on sculpted pages of atrocious books 
to highlight point of utter tedium 
where all the myths and legends that sustain 
foundation of our culture with grand tropes 
collapse in puzzle pieces scattered far. 

If Jupiter picks mushrooms in the woods, 
where Romulus hunts tragic deer of fate, 
I may find my mother and father lost 
on ice-frosted Bridge of Forgetfulness 
who show me God in apples of the tree 
that fall into my hand without remorse.