Forgetful Kingdom Of Death

Forgetful Kingdom Of Death
© Surazeus
2026 08 08

Every dawn I walk out into the world 
I gaze long moment at the blazing sun 
to see face of Apollo in its light, 
that wise God of Healing and Archery 
who maintains order with logic of truth 
from reason through analysis of facts. 

I taste sweet rind of Earth in juicy peach 
which I pluck from the Ancient Tree of Truth 
where we meet for our secret tryst of love 
to share fresh fruit we gather with our hands 
that seals our hearts with sacred bond of trust 
no thief could break between flesh of our souls. 

Before we wander on long nowhere road 
straight into forgetful kingdom of death, 
we shall hold hands and dance upon the hill 
that knows our secret passions we would hide 
till pleasures of our bodies we must share 
expands scope of our mutual consciousness. 

Though sadness about creatures who have died 
twists my heart with loops of potent grief, 
I celebrate new life that springs each day 
from mothers of each species on this globe 
who nurture tender bodies with bright eyes 
that knot our planet with progressive life. 

After catching lithe fish from deep lake of hope, 
we roast them over crackling flames of faith, 
chew tender strips of scorched flesh with delight, 
then lie relaxed on soft grass of respect 
to hear song of water rippled by wind 
so we understand mute kingdom of death. 

Sparked awake by nothingness of death, 
we open eyes of infinite delight, 
then walk together where trees dance in peace, 
far from lush lands where men with guns of greed 
kill other men to control fertile land, 
happy because we hear cute sparrows chirp. 

Attentive to strange worries of the heart, 
that burrow roots of sorrow in dark soil, 
we stroll about this miraculous world 
and share amazement at freedom to live 
that brave people before us fought to win, 
though we stay alert to thieves lurking near. 

Since we are not our shadows on the Earth, 
cast by light of the sun on land of time, 
we travel to Valhalla on the hill 
where are mothers carve our spirits from wood 
so our bodies sprout children of our eyes 
who will plant apple seeds above our graves.