Wet Patio Of Time
© Surazeus
2026 02 15

Twinkle of raindrops on patio planks
wakes memories of weird dramatic scenes
that her ancestors once experienced
for millions of years on this turning globe
when they sat in silence of everywhere
on timeless afternoons of falling rain.

Shadows of old memories from her life
stretch bright across wet patio of time
that echoes laughter of wind-swirling leaves
to veil warm sunshine of her lonely smile
that glows in garden of forgotten books
where all sad stories of dead humans hide.

She sighs that eager children of her heart
have scattered far across the fertile land
as seeds blown by indifferent wind of change
that sprout in families with unknown names
who cherish their own memories of life
where she is ghost of absence none can see.

Awake with mute complacency of love,
she tries to play observer of their play
with patient nonchalance of bitter hope,
yet finds in space between unspoken words
compassion for young strangers of her clan
with love that sheds fierce urgency of hope.

Holding small leather Bible in pale hands,
she walks in black shoes and long yellow dress
on dirt road to white church on the lake shore
where child of the sky hides inside the oak
and writes poems in alphabet he designed
with blood of dragons on frail autumn leaves.

Though she knows without a doubt in her heart
that the child of the sky inside the oak
is father of her mother she once met
when he was old as the bent withered oak,
so she tries to remember his true name
but all she can think about his Hengist.

Dark stranger on the shore calls out her name,
inquiring if she might have any tears
of wordless sorrow to sell for the cow,
so she lays flower wreath on its large head
and parades through town to Scarborough Fair
where she was his true love who still lives there.

If she gets trapped in the internet game
transforming beauty from innocent tears,
she might ask statue of Apollo how
to find the street where angels fear to tread,
then laughs because life has become absurd
as computer code of the happy bird.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus meets Florence Williams beside the white church on the lake shore where he guides her to the Underworld of Nothingness while she sings hymns.

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