Music Of My Wounded Heart

Music Of My Wounded Heart
© Surazeus
2025 05 28

Extravagant music of my wounded heart 
finetunes apples ripening in my brain 
which programs how my hands scroll light of faith 
in perfect hymn from my ethereal breath 
that causes trees to dance in ecstasy 
in psychic harmony with surprised rain. 

Duration of music in waves of time 
measures unmoving distance from the past 
reflected in the future I would see 
in silent hallway of my optic scope 
by which my mind perceives the unnamed world 
cluttered with fuzzy objects of contempt. 

I wonder if each object I perceive, 
that moves through volition of mute desire, 
is operated by conceptual soul 
which animates its time-bound body well 
to sing in harmony with water flow 
when the moon in the trees speaks to my heart. 

Immediacy of darkness sparks awake 
my suddenly cautious mind in respect 
of fierce attention to shadowy thoughts 
that lurk in doorway of the everywhere 
which grants admission to my naked heart 
for eating laughter of the rotten fruit. 

Gone far beyond the edge of somewhere else 
with tenuous knowledge of why rain explodes, 
I touch the flexible opening of light 
despite soft comfort of untrammeled time 
when I suffer sorrowing tone of death 
born from consummate face of the whole world. 

When falling leaves of time scream in the void 
that cracks window of silence with false words, 
I run with frantic laughter of despair 
through empty houses where faceless ghosts type 
beautiful stories of romantic trysts 
that drag my heart into the modern world. 

Sharp sound of death explodes from happy graves 
as ghosts that cause rotting leaves to ballet 
across abyss of voiceless honesty 
too swift for children who play chase in rain 
beside long highway full of broken cars 
that envy horses grazing in lush fields. 

While she drives down desert highway of skulls 
I film the scenery with my psychic phone 
while leaning out the open window, eyes 
recording everything that should exist 
as names in volume of forgotten lore 
that lies unread on sand ten thousand years.