Poisonous Prayer Of Pride

Poisonous Prayer Of Pride
© Surazeus
2026 04 03

I never noticed time can see itself, 
Eve chuckles at absurdity of fate, 
then strolls with unsynced bells of worthless hope 
to stand on treeless hill of perfect size 
where angels scatter bones of gods in grass 
that transform into books no eye can read. 

Eve wears new mask carved from tamarisk wood 
to break hard shackles of theology 
by selling peace to mad king on the heath 
whose rainbow silhouette veils her stale heart 
with sterile shadow of unconquered love 
that reveals how precious her soul should be. 

Affixed communion with specious belief, 
that long-dead vampire god will resurrect 
our rotten bodies from root-tangled soil, 
inspires Eve every morning to transcend 
aching pain of her back and hips worn down 
by baking apple pies beside the bomb. 

Eve remembers six thousand years of thirst 
for fruit from Tree of Knowledge that seals 
fructuous heart of innocence with respect 
for pure Flame of Atar that manifests 
victorious beauty of the conqueror 
who overthrows all tyrants in the world. 

Her heart sprouts wheat of calm beneficence 
that resists thought decay of pestilence 
against dominion of the mortal man 
who claims divine right to exploit our hands 
that garnish treasures from the generous Earth 
which accounts for poisonous prayer of pride. 

With palsied hands that plea to abjure pain, 
Eve draws map of the world with blood of gods 
on arch of triumph in the capital 
where wounded warriors of the war for oil 
parade before polished Mirror of Death 
who twists their souls with arrogant dismay. 

Through emulation of the solemn rite, 
that she directs with skull of god in hand, 
Eve holds ripe apple to indifferent sun 
that bursts with timeless circumstance in code 
programmed by brains of children in cold rain 
who share their stolen grief with eyeless friends. 

Stuck in shadow between Never and Now, 
Eve steals electric Diamond of Lost Truth 
that beams celestial light of energy 
which proves we are but swirls of conscious dust 
that dissipate in soft relentless wind 
which swirls long hair around her weathered face.