Alone Tree Of Fate
© Surazeus
2026 08 22

No black rain is falling on this bright day
while I walk to the Alone Tree of fate
so I can translate prophecies of change
sung by the hissing wind of emptiness
that batters melancholy homes of hope
where people eat at the table of faith.

Though spiders in the garden of lost souls
search for my heart in shadow of the clock,
the shepherd who finds body of his wife
decayed in bushes by the gushing stream
breaks the silence of God with wordless curse
that transforms his bones into twisted steel.

When he wanders in the pasture with cows,
the shepherd who programs computer games
hears crystal angels singing in tall trees,
so he gathers trash of their broken wings
in plastic bags he piles beside the road
till dust of long-dead stars encrust his eyes.

Sharp shots of guns echo in autumn woods
where angels run in trees of bloody bones
so ravens shriek from fragments of their mouths
in wild laments of shattered innocence
with prayers to clouds inhabited by gods
who laugh with joy at causing men to fight.

Trapped in the solitary hour of death,
the shepherd with gun of religious pride
considers wetness of tall hungry grass
when Bacchus dances on his empty grave
with sober clarity of evening hymns
that eyeless devils sing with pious faith.

He kneels and touches blueness of the stream
with anguish at the desolate secrecy
preserved in neatness of the garden path
where toads of panic meditate all night
against dire quietness of his cold breath
so he clamps ears against rustle of leaves.

Bright destitution of his childhood days
returns with brittle innocence of love
at that dark hour when eyes of seers expand
with muffled clang of bells in empty church
where angels wear masks of children we name
before they sink in muck of holy war.

Trapped in their mournful pilgrimage to Hell,
the people of the nation blessed by God
lie down together on the shattered plain
and stare at nothingness of glowing screens
that flash elusive visions of world peace
till we become the gods we idolize.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/08/…

Orpheus finds George Trakl by the thorny bush where he found his pregnant wife after invading soldiers shot her as she was gathering apples and eggs.

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