Heal My Exploding Heart

Heal My Exploding Heart
© Surazeus
2025 12 08

Sweet jasmine bush of my exploding heart 
veils happy skeleton of the dead god 
who lounges on tattered couch in the yard, 
beaming his face on television screens 
which pixelates our nation into tribes 
who get together to drink lemon wine. 

Yet joyful wolf of my exploding heart 
swims far across the opal sea of ghosts 
to teach our children how to build new homes 
from ruins of pomegranates and bombs 
so we prove existence of our souls 
who roam along wild rivers of the mind. 

If cracked fossil of my exploding heart 
is ever dug up from the temple floor, 
I might remember my ancestral soul 
embodied as the woman with four hands 
who managed vast orchards of lemon trees 
where I want to return from Neverland. 

Till scrawny tree of my exploding heart 
writhes gallantly from grave of Frankenstein, 
I map immensity of Earth with grid 
to trap new settlements with naming points 
so we can reinvent language of love 
that translates hunger into marriage vows. 

If I should wait till I am almost dead 
before I float toward cosmic light of truth, 
I might miss terrible masks of dead gods 
that glow red through foggy ruins of time 
to luminate our skin with tattooed codes 
that show us how to levitate our minds. 

Though crystal mask of my exploding heart 
conceals demonic energy of faith, 
I walk beside Goddess of Death each day 
to comprehend weird vastness of our world 
where humans congregate in anxious gangs 
that found religions to conquer the Earth. 

Relentless sea of my exploding heart 
provides clear legal precedents of faith 
for me to claim inheritance of lies 
which frame grand heritage of my lost tribe 
with noble narrative of our brave quest 
to federate world tribes with our world view. 

Festooned with garland of my victory, 
my face portrays immortal god of words 
as vibrant pulse of tuneful energy 
that radiates from each atom in the void 
to cluster conscious mass of divine light 
so your words may heal my exploding heart.