Material Otherness of Nature © Surazeus 2026 02 01 Though grim shadow of mortality haunts harsh hills of prelapsarian Arcady full of lovesick shepherds and prancing sheep, I search for vision of transcendent truth through experience of Nature I record, suspicious of mystical sentiment. If shimmer of pure sentimental love for Nature distorts perception of life, I shall assert my clear identity, reflected in Narcissan pool of fate, and conduct solemn quest with open heart to comprehend essential soul of Earth. Alone on hilltop by the windswept tree, where I enclose the whole Earth in broad scope of my world view projected from its base, I seek God in clear absence of its power through which my consciousness expands to glow in tune with numinous phantom of love. Since humble shepherd with the raven quill advises I look at the land with love and not confuse my own flesh for its field, I feel its blank indifference to fate almost seem to mock effort of my will, but I laugh knowing Nature has no mind. Material Otherness of Nature glows with personality my mind projects so I see in vitality of fruitful trees compassion for fragile being of my soul which is not there in radiance of its growth, pathetic fallacy of fearful hope. When scolding moralist with magic wand cautions me to avoid idolatry that worships mindless Nature as its God, I cast aside delusions of false pride that local spirit of this land loves me, and treasure spinning Earth is glob of dirt. That vision of God on huge mossy rock, who seems to gaze at me with loving eyes, I realize through epiphany of faith embodies soul of my ancestral fathers whose guidance showed each new child how to live, mortals providing ideal form for God. Nature bristles with bright ancestral souls of all my fathers and mothers who lived millions of years in vales by sparkling streams with negative magnitude of mind power so God embodies spirits of their love awake in conscious dreaming of my brain.
Sunday, February 1, 2026
Material Otherness of Nature
We Hear The Weeper
We Hear The Weeper © Surazeus 2026 02 01 If every dream deferred were to explode with fear from sweet syrup of rotten meat, then Red Maria with hands of hawk wings will lead the hungry refugees of war across the Jordan River of despair and to crumbling church where devils sing. When Red Maria passes by my home to tell us how the new day has begun, we turn away from where war always burns to hide in silver mist from factories that shroud the lake of fish in silent rage where singing stones inform us of the score. If we should all arrive in Lombardy where rumors of mutual acquaintances reveal secret code of conspiracies, I shall prowl restless archives of my mind to find the gentle Monster of our state who wants to sing instead of scaring us. Hydra-headed bird of America lurches with wounded wing of arrogance across the windy prairie of the heart to ask if Red Maria could restore score for our cheerful tune of nourishment despite how milk-cart horses wait for wealth. We hear the Weeper in the doorless home, whose voice is querulous with shrill regret, express blind silhouette of wordless grief explicit with strange idiom of the street preserved in dictionaries no one reads, since we are all reluctant witnesses. Packed on the bus that bears dead souls to Hell, we race through forest of the howling wolf in vain attempt to escape bombs of rage by seeking ticket to the Promised Land without pretense of pleasure in fine art, hearts tangled in strings of the violin. We face our fate with courage of the fool while all the world weeps at harsh tyranny established by cruel kindness of the king who would pardon both assassin and thief by stabbing them with smile of unfair law that traps us in these strange times of despair. Over the trading world in fractured ship Odysseus sails beyond all legal bounds to grasp lost treasure with his diamond hand by selling coal to peasants in glass shacks who vote for Sun Thief as World President while clutching at their useless dreams deferred.
Moral Parasites Of Faith
Moral Parasites Of Faith © Surazeus 2026 02 01 If we are moral parasites of faith then life is programmed to generate life when self-replicating genes of molecules design new bodies to maintain concept of lithe organic hope while God evolves from fish to wingless angel born of angst. Hygeia gives me grail of honey wine that wakes immortal soul of divine genes bright in my brain as timeless energy composed of memories my ancestors lived which programs how my mind perceives the world, inventing quest for my soul to fulfill. Transparent flame of conscious energy contrives to cause my brain to visualize stone wall enclosing garden of fruit trees so I play architect of paradise constructing haven to protect my clan in cathedral of bones where angels pray. We worship Wise Fool, who woke from weird dream with conscious vision of our spinning world, as God who teaches secret of rebirth through conjugal relations which conceive new bodies for immortal soul of genes so children carry on our legacy. Love urges me to find soul mate of hope so we transform our dreams of paradise to children running in lush yard of trees where they play hide and seek to learn the game of social power, trapped by hierarchy by judging who can eat and breed new souls. Erased by mirror of conceptual thoughts, I project bright silhouette of my soul as faceless shadow encoded in verse which reprograms how brains perceive the world so strangers recite spells dispelling curse that opens space for selfless love to grow. Awake through divine fever of desire, though trapped in mortal shell of aching flesh, I journey on quest for the Holy Grail that drove my ancestors for centuries to expand from castle on hill of faith and build world empire to enheaven Earth. Arresting progress of my world conquest, shocked at aggressive stance of blinding fear, I survey wreck of history in old myths, preserved in fractured nations of the world, and wonder how we plan redesign social system to equalize all souls.
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