Ghost Of The Faceless God
© Surazeus
2025 06 15

Shadows of my sorrow chase me in spring
through trees that beam light down into my eyes,
so weird joy I experience with shy fear
blooms from daffodils of yellow concern
when I breathe words of cold indifferent wind
till my chest rises mountain meadow strong.

With breath of clouds that swirl inside my chest
I speak the real essential names of things
to understand tense magnet of my heart
that spirals tongue of thoughts with agency
from buzzing honeycombs of innocence
that resemble sections of memory.

Stored in compartments of contrived events,
my memories present moral proverbs
which I categorize through fairy tales
as study guide my frantic heart consults
when faced with dangerous situations
so I know how to evade strike of death.

Enclosed in sectored brackets of my brain,
strange memories of traumatic events,
I guess must be what my ancestors lived,
flash vividly clear in visions of hope,
depicting actions they performed in fear
which I apply to how I play my role.

Abject with passion to transcend blind fear,
I growl with fierce exertion of respect
to stand upright on swiftly spinning Earth
when I assert authority to speak,
though my personness may evaporate
at flash of lightning that luminates faith.

This complete person of passion I am
emerges from four hundred million years
of evolution from lizard to human
while I strive to overcome suffering
from punishment inflicted by cruel greed
till I become ghost of the faceless god.

Inhaling spirit of the mirror sky,
I submerge my body of aching flesh
in sparkling waters of the silver lake
to swim across abyss of nothingness
in sky reflected on surface of time
to hear soft echo of my wordless voice.

Dripping sparkles of eternal starlight,
I rise from lake of dreams at dawn of time
and balance upright body with light beams
to avoid falling against the hard world
so I observe vast landscape of my dream
and spread my arms to pretend I have wings.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/06/…

Orpheus explores the mountain meadow, swims in the lake, climbs the tree to pluck apples which he eats, then sings about it all as he sits on the stone of words.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism