Broken Moon Of Fate
© Surazeus
2025 03 13

Through tributaries of the dream-time loop
I search for treasures of bountiful worlds
receding far down stream of timeless change
where sunrays of possibilities gleam
in tangled matrix of confusing facts
which I respool along reasonable tracks.

Sitting in sturdy boat of steam-bent planks,
I paddle along shimmering stream of hope
toward small orange sun low in gray misty sky
that sparks strange memory of timeless desire
for scent of firesmoke among rustling trees
that rises from crackling flames of regret.

When I see Sylphus lope around the hill
with yew bow and leather bag of long arrows
I call his name and offer bowl of stew
so he gives me three apples and mushrooms,
then eats stew of venison spiced with herbs
from wood bowl I carved with sharp jagged stone.

Gazing up at the broken moon of fate
that shimmers gold behind clouds of desire,
I ask Sylphus what he thinks the stars are,
so he explains that Pythagoras taught
stars are fountains of animating souls
that beam down to give bodies conscious life.

Just as we drift into shadows of sleep,
curled in fur cloaks beside the crackling fire,
Sylphus jumps to his feet and grabs his bow,
but the growling bear man with twisted club
hits his head hard, causing him to collapse,
stunned unconscious though I shake him and cry.

Pushing me down flat stretched out on my back,
the bear man laughs while gripping my wrists tight
that, though I rejected his marriage pact,
he will force me to bear child of his seed,
then tries to kiss me as I turn my face
and grunts to force his way inside my heart.

When he lets go one wrist to push my legs
open wide with cruel lascivious sneer,
I snatch bone-handle blade of sharpened bronze
from leather sheath on his belt with intent
to thrust sharp dagger straight into his chest,
so he screams in pain as blood gushes out.

After stabbing his heart with frantic thrusts,
I kneel beside Sylphus and call his name,
then gasp with joy when he opens his eyes,
but he jumps up and backs away from me,
shocked to see I am covered with blood,
and runs away as I cry in the dark.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus finds the river nymph weeping by the corpse of the man she killed, so he helps her bury him and brings her water to clean her face.

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