My Heart Glows Full

My Heart Glows Full
© Surazeus
2025 11 23

My heart glows full with beauty of our world 
so I paint only truth I want to see 
about sad singers stuck on city streets 
who strum guitars and sing ache of the blues 
while piston-engine cars of eager hope 
drown out their voices with commercial roar. 

My heart beats quick in ardent harmony 
with hammer blow of smiths on anvil brains 
to forge sharp sword of justice from despair 
so warriors wield shields of honest law 
in war against cruel tyrants on gold thrones 
to free humanity from corporate greed. 

My heart pumps brave with river-current flow 
when I dip oar with strong courageous hope 
and stroke intense compassion for mankind 
to drive my boat to heartland of the world 
where I step forth on shore of distant lands 
with clear intention to explore weird Earth. 

My heart asserts high undulating waves 
when I take arms against deep troubling sea 
that laughs at my aggressive vanity 
while surging nonchalantly with the moon 
that breaks enormous mountains into sand 
where I dance laughing on slow-shifting truth. 

My heart blooms spindly lilacs of stark faith 
for walking wounded warriors without hands 
who hold strange beauty of the faceless sun 
in open flowers smooth as lacquered eyes 
with frantic memories that convey with pride 
our mortal message on bright fields of snow. 

My heart fires pistons with rapid acclaim 
as driving force constructing halls of sense 
in vast cathedral space with hoarded words 
dispensed by pile-driver wealth of lost time 
embodied by scent of madeleine cake 
that triggers memories of exploding bombs. 

My heart beams riddled with eccentric tones 
through clumsy subtlety of formal games 
despite grim sloppiness of solemn faith 
appropriate for tricks lost children learn 
when they throw stones at idols of dead gods 
who crumble into bureaucratic forms. 

My heart confirms its soul with self-control, 
so good we do will ever be our task 
through metric relativity of time 
that leaves us stranded in ruins of faith 
where wingless angels search for photographs 
that fall from Tree of Fame in constant change.