Savior In The Sycamore
© Surazeus
2026 09 20

Skipping in the autumn evening rainstorm
is how we can find out we are still real
even though events in our mirror world
spiral out of fictionalized control
that transform people into hungry gulls
who search for Heaven in the wilderness.

In the field of flowers blooming from graves
I am more than the absence of the field,
though I am missing from puzzle of truth
where I walk as air in the empty space
filled with the wholeness of the long-dead souls
who animate my body with desire.

I should not trouble younger hearts with hope
that fractured strangeness of our social game
will readjust our world view where we play
noble heroes in dramatic events,
watched by the savior in the sycamore
who bids us farewell as he flies away.

Since silence is impossible this year,
demanding that we howl with principle
against relentless anger of cruel men
blind with rage that story of our state
is based on exploitation of the poor,
then we shall gather by the moon and hum.

If we sink deep in shifting sands of change
by laughing at forbidden laws of love,
then we shall grow flowers from wounded hearts
so we can write new universal laws
for every person in the world to live
free from delusions of religious creeds.

When snowflakes flutter from the faceless sky
to prove God is delusion of despair,
I gaze in windows of suburban homes
where they share meals at tables of respect
beside the pine that blinks with fairy eyes,
then wander past to sleep in Raven Wood.

Since Shamash lives as flame inside my heart
that widens cope of my subconscious vibe,
I gather force of psychic energy
from millions of minds frantic with surprise
that world view we have shared for eighty years
collapses into gibberish of lies.

Retrieving it from mirror of my eye,
I slip my soul back in its secret place,
but it remains as twinkling star of faith
that quivers bright in vastness of deep space
since light of atoms flashing in my brain
remains dream key to my infinity.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus strolls on the beach by the Pacific Ocean and ponders political events that are quickly devolving into absurdity of tyrannical greed.

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