Gospel Of The Caring Smile

Gospel Of The Caring Smile
© Surazeus
2026 08 16

Each dawn when Odin smiles at ghosts of men 
I look from office window of my hope 
and wonder who the strangers are who walk 
nowhere across narrow scope of my mind 
with casual indifference to suffering 
people in distant lands endure with grace. 

No matter where I wander in the world 
I meet the Gray Wanderer on the road 
who offers small box with the angel tongue, 
or in the room where picture frames slip slant 
at sideways readjustment of the mind 
because he always seems to know me first. 

My brain will flash with secret memories 
at sudden gust of wind from the Great Voice 
which erases words of fake languages 
and traps their concepts in smooth river stones 
so they become the horse of poetry 
who gallops laughing on the hill of skulls. 

Because half-open door of secret faith 
exposes potent passion for sweet fruit, 
I file restraining order against Death 
who wants to help me generate new life, 
but I am happy in my forest hut 
reading the last book my god-soul once wrote. 

Startled at vision of the Wanderer, 
whose time-mapped visage of assertive faith 
smiles back at me from mirror of the mind, 
I hide bright halo shining on my head 
with flashing cables of the world wide web 
to prove my true street credibility. 

Inspired by words of blood in holy books 
to find the Garden of the Unicorn, 
I stand in middle of the busy road 
and wave to faceless people driving past 
because no creature in this world can last 
except for our first god, the humming toad. 

When I feel lost in haze of innocence 
that shrouds rugged hills of Arcadia, 
the one-eyed Wanderer of Anywhere 
provides advice with riddles of the fool 
who always knows more than the haughty king 
because only the weak claim right to rule. 

If Odin rides the train over the Alps 
to visit Shrine of Mary by the lake, 
he may be startled by epiphany 
that Womb of Woman generates new souls, 
so he tours television studios 
to preach the gospel of the caring smile.