Name Of My Mother © Surazeus 2025 05 06 When my mother, who created my soul from spirit of my father to transform their two separate immortal gene codes in new body which nurtures my brain dream, fades into shadow of her memories, I carve idol mask to preserve her face. Our mothers create our bodies from light so neural networks of our brains project immortal sense of conscious self-awareness which conjures virtual model of the world as we glow bright with passion of desire, then decay and disintegrate to dust. How strange to think the mother who creates our mortal bodies with immortal atoms will herself decay and fade into shadow, though she embodies Creator of Life, that vast unconscious glow of energy which sprouts our bodies from womb of the Earth. Sprouting from rich soil of our spinning globe, we spring into life on wings of desire by breathing ethereal spirit of hope to rise from writhing flames of molecules and journey on quest for soulmate of love with whom we generate new life from light. Each mother who has created my soul, reborn four hundred million years of hope, from spirit of each father urged by love, bloomed rich with fertile energy of faith, nurtured immortal soul of our gene code, then dissolved into dirt that forms our world. The bodies of our mothers form the Earth as soil which nurtures fruits and herbs we eat so matter of atoms pulsing with light assume new patterns as we evolve bodies, fish to lizard to mouse to cat to monkey to ape to human, till we become God. Thus when my mother passes from this world I eulogize her journey through her life and write her name in Book of Human Souls so her spirit lives in my memory, though her conscious sense of her special self will vanish into mindless glow of light. Since Heaven where souls of light dwell with God is nothing more than futile fantasy designed to heal hearts hurt from loss at death, I record name of my Mother in song as mirror mask she wore to preserve tale of fate she made with choice to create life.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Translate
Tuesday, May 6, 2025
Name Of My Mother
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Orpheus visits his aging mother Calliope, eldest of the Muses, and Muse of Epic Poetry, by Castalian Spring on Mount Parnassus.
ReplyDelete