Ancient Child Of Sight
© Surazeus
2026 06 04

Though ringing shadow of my faulty mind
transforms from star to stone of silent truths,
I hurl spear of my unblessed heart to pierce
reluctant mirror mask that frames this world
with tangled formulas contrived by time
that plot how atoms weave our dreaming brains.

Go wild with passion of the laughing crow,
my father shouts at me with wounded heart,
so I flap tattered wings of desperate faith
to understand who molds me from earth clay
till I become new heaven-ravaged bloom
that flowers toward infinity of light.

With shield shaped round as full moon of despair,
I step across hot stones of silent rage
since light erases shadow of my soul,
though I must celebrate aggressive thirst
when moonlight gleams from silver bones of fate
that cannot save my soul from nothingness.

Heart bound by gloom of silence before dawn,
I reach pale hands to bale dark emptiness
with flower-fragile words of timeless truth
that flow with fluid nonchalance of water
at strict trajectory of hammer words
which I swing straight at adamantine fear.

I map lost land where moon-fish slither swift
among stiff reeds of whistling innocence
at shock of night-eyes open in my hands
since I am born as ancient child of sight
trapped in fractal shell of Plutonian ice
till I reach home in swirls of wordless snow.

Strange feeling pierces heart of mirror ice
at gust of wordless wind that blows and blows
across vast shapeless field of tangled wires
where frightened gods transform to twisted trees
with stone feet rooted deep in jagged soil
against brave ardor of fantastic speech.

Gasping for ethereal breath at dawn,
I claw hard clumps of clay out of my heart
to capture fleeting flash of endless days
in flame-baked jar in which I capture rain
as water I transform to bitter wine
by crushing grapes with calculator hands.

No heart more wounded by shadow of fate
than mine expands from fractured seed of faith
at sudden tone of fraught analysis
that sings with hoarse assertion time uncoils
while I row coffin boat across cold lake
to where my father hangs from tree of lies.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus erects statue of his father in marble temple on high hill above valley of seven rivers where people roast fish and listen to the bard sing elegies and hymns.

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