Have To Change My Life
© Surazeus
2025 10 14

Every ten years I have to change my life
to preserve excessive light of my soul,
though bruised and battered by games of success
that seal my spirit in beautiful shadow
as I carve vision of my heart on walls
till happiness beams from my fractured eye.

Though the sun is no great eye watching me
struggle against relentless tides of change,
I release urgent shadow of my heart
that runs against finality of death
as star-eyed wolf who knows the sacred way
through broken doors of twisted corridors.

Though people believe river rocks are dying
with glossy temper of crystalized brains,
I know they are alive with ancient souls
born at the big bang of expanding truth,
so dreams provide structure to shape the world
since ghosts complain about echo of time.

Nymphs who lounge in fake museum trees
believe our strange world will go on forever
so I write their prophecies in glass books
to highlight gorgeous anguish of true love
designed by luminous phantom of hope
as doctrines adopted by new world church.

Thus I drink wine from small three-legged grails,
hoping to remove grief that humans die,
while priests store artefacts of long-lost myths
in cobwebbed tombs of now-unworshipped gods
who perform primeval dance about death
while cows chew grass on misty hills at dawn.

To entertain questions on how to live
without inheritance from aging kings,
he applies for art workshop fellowships
with plan to categorize forms of things
by tagging objects with strict ideograms
which connects every language on Earth.

Each time the black wolf appears in my dreams,
I study aura radiant with weird spells
that vibrates soundlessly from unrung bells
despite clear memory of you I cherish,
invented by quaint instrument of faith
stuck in my heart as rose thorn of respect.

These secrets we must never choose to share
reveal how fast our bodies pulse with love
when we encounter souls our hearts adore
at random on the winding road of life
where we hold hands and walk on anywhere
without obsession for changing our lives.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus and Ophelia hold hands as they walk the endless winding road of anywhere while wearing rainbow flowers in their hair.

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