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Monday, July 27, 2026

Slow Spin Of Earth

Slow Spin Of Earth
© Surazeus
2026 07 27

When shapeless shadow of the mindless sun 
reveals eternal light inside my cells, 
my heart is tricked to think my soul is real 
beyond hot emanation of my brain, 
but I float blissfully in surging waves 
and let soft tide of time dissolve my pride. 

I try to avoid unfortunate role 
as king of ghosts when sunset light glows pink 
through tangled lattice of tree limbs, but grief 
clings joyfully to pulsing heart of faith 
that binds my body to slow spin of Earth, 
even if I want to harvest crow wings. 

I am not absence of anything else 
except my presence in the field of faith, 
so air becomes my essence when I breathe 
space where my electric soul has flowed 
with vibrant passion to become myself 
as I keep moving through currents of change. 

With map of the city I left behind 
wrapped around rotten sorrow of my heart, 
I search for the house with one thousand doors 
on the quiet road in the country town 
where I lived when I was thirteen years old 
to find the runes I carved on the glass moon. 

The labyrinth that encompasses our world 
has but one gate for every human being, 
so I search every house where I once lived 
to find my special key forged from my tongue 
in hand of the nameless girl I still love 
who gives it to me then goes back to work. 

After I open dream gate of my fate, 
I hesitate at threshold of the unknown, 
then return to the house where she bakes bread, 
bringing wood and apples for the hearth, 
but when she kisses me with secret love 
I transform into idol of her myth. 

I climb eternal stairway of coiled truth 
that spirals from core of the multiverse 
while peeling orange of psychic synergy 
to taste sweet sorrow of relentless joy 
that sparks dreams of my ancestors to glow 
with visions of survival I replay. 

Now that I have almost finished the race 
to climb the highest mountain of respect, 
I dance on still point of the universe 
till I become the spinning world of change 
as my flesh frame disperses into words 
that flash awake as children of my heart. 



1 comment:

  1. Orpheus wanders through the museum of faceless heroes to understand what motivates average people to create beautiful art from fear of death.

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