Translate

Sunday, May 11, 2025

Knowledge I Am Alive

Knowledge I Am Alive
© Surazeus
2025 05 11

Though this sullen world cares less about me 
than rocks that hum in river of rainbows, 
I wander landscape of unwelcome wind 
to howl with beasts who want to eat my soul 
and dance with wild abandon of the dead 
till I ache with knowledge I am alive. 

No hymn I harp with howl of holy hurt 
could mirror anguish of my angry heart 
quite like rain crashing into fields of mud 
where I crawl chortling to the Promised Land 
that always fades into bright glare of dawn 
to vanish with foul words I blush to speak. 

Dead gods I worship shiver in black rain 
as murky shadows hungry for my blood, 
so I hide in cracked television screen 
to prove I am more than blind mind machine 
programmed to sing soft elegies of faith 
which I scratch with my bones in river mud. 

Knees torn to bloody shreds by jagged rocks, 
I crawl the long and winding road of faith 
through meadow of the dancing skeletons 
toward Misty Mountains of the happy wolf 
who gives the silver moon of apple fate 
to this poor fool I accept that I am. 

Tall pines of hope that gleam with golden rays, 
which thread our lonely mountains in breasts 
by which we breathe ethereal ghost of truth, 
invite me to transcend my wretched frame 
of brittle bones enwrapped in shroud of fear 
so I release crow of my heart to fly. 

Unfocused purpose of forgotten quest 
diverts my fierce attention from fake wealth 
I yearn to hoard from dragons I have slain 
in burning tower of the weeping queen 
who hurls my body back to my own time 
where I will play no genocidal king. 

Thus I cannot regret the holy hour 
I first meet on the signless road of fate 
the perfect soul mate for my twisted heart 
whose clarifying eyes of honest truth 
extract my spirit from hell-loop of guilt 
which straightens out my random thrust of hope. 

Reborn from sultry womb of dreamless cave, 
I play lithe River Walker with pizazz 
through mask of vigorous vitality 
to woo young princess with long golden hair 
who wears wreath of red flowers my hands wove 
and smiles while pouring me hot cup of tea. 


1 comment:

  1. Orpheus visits deserted Temple of Cronus in the ancient city of Athens to leave crow feathers he used as quills to write hymns to dead gods.

    ReplyDelete