Translate

Saturday, November 8, 2025

Keyed To Open Minds

Keyed To Open Minds
© Surazeus
2025 11 08

Baked cookies are flying saucers of the heart, 
warming my soul on chilly autumn nights 
when oak leaves shroud my house and yard in names 
of all the people who have ever lived 
so I remember stories of their lives 
as I eat sweetness of our innocence. 

My heart remembers what it contemplates 
with aching sorrow drawn from memory 
that raises ghosts of people I once knew 
from mute oblivion of being unnamed 
as they haunt silence of dark evening hours 
and ask me to write their names in the dirt. 

When birds sing cheerfully in evening glow 
I am fooled that Gabriel has returned 
with another message for me to write 
with blood of angels killed by speeding cars 
so I pause in half-open door of fear 
to translate solemn words of prophecy. 

Yet when the Future speaks into my heart 
dumb echo of its voice reverberates 
down endless corridors of city streets 
in coded signs of weird profundity 
which substitute old meanings for new lies 
through execution keyed to open minds. 

Aligned with travelers of bravery 
who never turn back to the homes they leave, 
I measure vastness of the changing sea, 
heart split by lightning flash of new respect, 
which Nature leaves undated in the sky, 
for I still live though love has burned my heart. 

If Earth reverses hemispheres of fate 
by how time could unstitch our universe, 
I would record strict circumstance of chance, 
appalled by ghastly wisdom children find 
as serpents slithering in tall grass of faith 
because I stand alone with ghosts of time. 

Unworthy talent of my shy attempt 
to bandage wounded heart of travesty 
convinces few to gamble liberty 
for souls that retake moments of despair, 
hearts laden with unwanted guilt of failure, 
since horror always finds us vulnerable. 

Arresting fall from Heaven on bold wing, 
I rise with courage of attentive theme 
designed to resurrect my wounded heart 
from grave of sadness so I fly again 
on swift plumed feet of delirious angst 
and give cookies to homeless on the street. 



1 comment:

  1. Orpheus leans against the lamppost outside the bookstore filled with shoppers for holiday, and contemplates the mystery of human existence.

    ReplyDelete