On Prairies Of Zathamar

On Prairies Of Zathamar
© Surazeus
2026 03 02

Since no one watches television show 
of my life, I do whatever I want 
if I harm none, for I value with care 
special beauty of each frail human life 
that shimmers with the mindless glow of atoms 
woven in briefly conscious brain of hope. 

My brain invents stories for people I see 
walking past the window beside my desk 
where I work in the Water Business Office, 
mapping water and sewer system pipes 
that cycle through every building in town 
with water-words I hear blind angels sing. 

When I peel off mask of America, 
composed of steel towers and asphalt roads, 
I perceive timeless land of Zathamar, 
plains teeming with dinosaurs, buffaloes, 
horses, and humans hunting them with spears, 
then businessmen driving cars to oil wells. 

I find bleached skeletons of my ancestors 
buried in graves from sea to shining sea 
along the signless roads of immigrants 
forever searching for the Promised Land 
somewhere over the horizon of hope 
where gangs are not driving them from their homes. 

Arising from bright dust of Mother Earth, 
Smohalla carries Dream Rock in his heart 
and shouts from the mountain of dancing trees, 
"My people shall never work with lust for wealth 
because they will find wisdom in their dreams 
when their spirits rise from flames of respect." 

We gather on prairies of Zathamar 
where no ring of stones has ever been built 
to pitch our tents beside the Stream of Souls 
and share songs of our sorrows with the wind 
that rise as smoke from fires of hungry hearts 
which weaves clouds into tapestry of truth. 

We ask each other with serious concern, 
what is the nature of America, 
that marble hall where idols of dead gods 
proclaim glory of expanding empire, 
though vines break down divisive walls of faith 
so we walk together on broken roads. 

Our stories map vast land of Zathamar 
that details complicated maze of myths 
where river of all time orchestrates 
fruit trees of Eden from bleak parking lots 
where Yemaya erases boundaries 
with nurturing rain of our hopeful hearts.