New Language Of The Heart © Surazeus 2025 11 10 High in suspended leap of twisted truth, I dream I fly above the broken world, recycled spirit nurtured by nine stars sparked bright to animate frame of my mind that binds my body firm with ardent faith through delusion of immortality. Weird memory from my random life of hope reverses mirror image of my brain projected on taut tapestry of time with grafted token of reluctant pride entranced with patterns of humility that children imitate in mocking play. Reborn as Waterbearer for the world, I stride bleak desolation of regret with pitcher full of sweet demonic tears imprinted clear with august arrogance which culminates in victory for the swift who focus brave attention on the truth. Despite adverse arrangement of hard words plucked from heart of the siren with my need, my ghost engages strangers on the road in wordless dialog of hollow hope that sings in wind on tips of changeless dunes because we build our home on shifting lies. Since hurricanes of fierce indifferent faith speak not the same language our brains invent we stand awake in eyes of faceless ghosts when we explore the endless maze of doors where people talk about the civil war that rages in some weird land far away. Engaged in journey to the Promised Land that shimmers bright in words of holy books, we ask each other questions about faith so we might grow through solidarity though trees bend humbly in torrents of rain which teaches us new language of the heart. When I arrive on shore of this brave land after sailing frail boat on the storm-wracked sea, I speak of how I feel to blooming trees but all my thoughts disperse as autumn leaves so I forget odd mystery I had seen which leaves my soul stranded in paradise. Though voiceless after losing train of thought, I walk in every city of our land filling cups of the thirsty with strange tales that fill their hearts with new experiences so our dark hearts bloom as refreshing fruit that angels eat to remember our names.
Monday, November 10, 2025
New Language Of The Heart
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Orpheus emerges from cave of the underworld and sits alone on thought-stone by the river to contemplate how language frames our perceptions of the world.
ReplyDelete