Bodies Float In Sorrow

Bodies Float In Sorrow
© Surazeus
2025 07 31

Oblique contention of the laureate 
sprays words in conversations of desire 
to spin the mind in harmony with waves 
which stream our sorrows on flashing lines 
depicted as ancient paintings in caves 
observed by wanderers on signless roads. 

The oak tree sprawling on the rocky dale, 
connected by stone walls on either side, 
remains safe haven of my aching heart 
where I lounge lonely in embracing limbs 
far from the teeming market of desire 
where jesting troubadours mock royalty. 

Holding map of the heavens in my heart, 
shimmering matrix woven with starlight, 
I listen to cicadas sing at dawn 
about strange beauty of the faceless wind, 
then carve my name on bottom of the jar 
before I bake it in the kiln of hope. 

Our voices whisper in tall sycamores 
to wake electric sense of sudden storm 
that traces absence of my hungry heart 
swollen with heaviness of eager hope 
so, though we tremble at loud roar of faith, 
our bodies float in sorrow of respect. 

Each word still missing from resonant spell 
reveals confusion of the ink-wet hill 
trapped deep in grimy clouds of innocence 
uprooted from sharp jangle of safe words 
which will evaporate through flash of thought 
though we lie silent on the shifting dune. 

Glass spiders weave the silver bridge of truth 
across abyss of vernal emptiness 
where copse of pear trees rattles at my breath 
despite solutions burgeoning from books 
through resolution of the faceless clown 
who knows where everybody wants to live. 

No asphodel with tears of pungent wine 
contends with arrogance of cheerful fate 
since flowers bloom from awful cracks of Hell 
with fading memories nameless lovers share 
when we decide we love our fateful flaws 
because we smell soft colors of fake words. 

My heart remembers lake of subtle light 
where turtles with aggressive angel wings 
float cyber-swift above the singing crowd 
because the tree keeps growing from the dirt 
despite scars seared by frost and fire of time 
by reaching roots in darkness of the mind.