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Thursday, September 3, 2026

Souls Of Hungry Seraphim

Souls Of Hungry Seraphim
© Surazeus
2026 09 03

Too deep the sorrow of brute wakefulness 
that scatters souls of hungry seraphim 
frail as crackled leaves across parking lots 
where demons give each other stolen eyes 
to make up excuses for scamming gods 
who insist on their hard-won happiness. 

Strange idea of the true way to live 
blinds generations of eager wanderers 
who clean the spotless windows of their hearts 
in numberless houses where no one lives, 
apprenticed to the changeless flow of time 
unspooling clocks that scream too silently. 

If books unfold themselves with angel wings 
against sapphire intensity of hope, 
we share ripe peaches in the afternoon 
while Satan vacuums empty offices 
because no one meets him at the crossroads 
with newspapers from secret centuries. 

The greatest tales of history ever told 
seem to have happened far too long ago 
for children to remember why they need 
bread to eat with honey of demon tears 
that soothes the wounded hearts of honesty 
with inconvenience of forgotten dreams. 

Since we get nothing from old memories 
except mute madness of the speeding car, 
we look for kind gnomes in suburban yards 
who ask us if we vote for president 
before the second coming of the toad 
whose eyes gleam bright as headlights in the fog. 

She tells him with soft voice of fluttered leaves 
that she prefers to fill her heart with love 
instead of waiting for his love to fill 
the empty places of her hopefulness, 
so he calls her the beautiful and brave 
with open eyes in museum of her heart. 

Since I was born with the weakness to fall, 
she sings while twirling in clear sparkling rain 
where flower petals flutter in the breeze, 
I was also born with the strength to rise, 
so he holds wingless anguish of her heart 
till she grows wings and flies into the clouds. 

The human heart is stronger than the stone 
smoothed by ten million years of river tears 
because it shatters from betrayal each day, 
yet throbs again with dawn flash of the sun, 
so we hold hands to bind our weakened hearts 
with strength of eager loneliness we share. 



1 comment:

  1. Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury while High Priestess of Wounded Hearts sings heart-healing melodies for young women in her Temple of the Honest Girl.

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