Beyond The Seventh Wall

Beyond The Seventh Wall
© Surazeus
2026 01 18

When I have arrived at the seventh wall, 
that shimmers between my Spirit and God 
who wears mirror mask of my secret face, 
my primal conscious sense of Other-Self 
will wake at center of the metaverse 
as persona my songs invent from dream. 

I am no Orpheus, Hamlet, or Balder, 
nor Jesus dancing on the Rainbow Bridge, 
because I create my persona mask 
from fragments of mythical characters 
to assemble puzzle of who I am 
so you can see your true self in my face. 

Whether I am faceless ghost of I Am 
which replicates my self as many selves 
seen by people in every town on Earth, 
or I am one human being with hot brain 
who wears many faces of long-dead gods, 
I am always the person you perceive. 

Brave human performing my self on stage, 
as stereotype I pretend to play, 
I am the director, the backstage crew, 
the stage, the camera, and the bright screen 
of the television and the computer, 
as well as the actor who plays all parts. 

This role of myself I perform each day 
is nothing more than puppet of my brain 
completely separate from the outside world, 
though tears of rain seep on my cluttered stage 
where I assemble fragments of the world 
in global puzzle of our new world order. 

Because I am the Theater of Hope 
on which I play character I design, 
I freeze into the idol of my soul 
so I still stand in temple of my tale 
ten thousand years after my body dies, 
for torso of Apollo I remain. 

I see you reading words of this dream verse, 
feeling your eyes scan thoughts of my sponge brain 
with passionate desire to understand 
anxious fears that motivate how I write, 
for poems that I compose with ardent faith 
spark conscious sense of my self in your brain. 

Beyond the seventh wall of my dream play 
I walk the endless maze of psychic myths 
that humans of the past built from their lives 
so you see statue of Surazeus 
when you read my words bleeding on this page 
every year for the next ten thousand years.