My Weeping Brother Isaiah

My Weeping Brother Isaiah
© Surazeus
2025 11 28

When wistful winds unwind the burnished sun, 
I stroll with my weeping brother Isaiah 
across the loneliest prairie on Earth 
to catch nameless ghosts of innocent people 
killed by invaders in far distant wars 
who fall with bitter grace of autumn leaves. 

If I escape bomb in the antique clock 
to fly away on weird angelic wings, 
I may solve paradox of death in life 
I find in beauty of bleak winter days 
when contrite gods, embodied in bare trees, 
ignite courageous yearning in my heart. 

Feet bare on glass-sharp ground of frozen faith, 
I stroll with my weeping brother Isaiah 
to find gloom-glowing Seraphim of Pride 
whose eyes spark pure erotic faith in love 
when homeless people gather by blank church 
to buy salvation from their vampire god. 

Lost people who escape from bombed-out homes 
project their grotesque loss on locked church doors 
at calm chastisement meted out by clowns, 
then give their treasures to bankers who stand 
with lofty principles on fractured stones 
to hear cruel songs strangle the wilderness. 

God-born from wretched poverty of hope, 
I stroll with my weeping brother Isaiah 
down signless road to find the Promised Land 
that ever shimmers on sun-slivered hills 
as weird mirage that tricks our trusting hearts 
so we rejoice that brutal empires fall. 

Too many righteous souls with burning books 
surround high ziggurat where Ishtar reigns 
to claim inalienable right for fake wealth 
concealed in social benefits by seals 
stamped for approval by our vampire god 
who shows us how streams flow down to the sea. 

Now bearing Lamp of Liberty in hand, 
I stroll with my weeping brother Isaiah 
and tattooed angels wearing leather cloaks 
who march to fight for vanished vanity 
in protest that all conscious creatures die 
through hunger for deceptive fairy tales. 

Narcissus stares at mirror mask of mirth 
with placid lust to play authentic self 
shaped by anxiety of fluid faith 
for quick transcendence of our mortal vibe 
till he looks up and sees face of the girl 
who cradles wingless sparrow of his heart.