My Unpossessed Heart
© Surazeus
2025 03 26

Beyond vast picture of painted landscapes
I see uncertain whiteness of pure depths
reflecting ugly beauty of our world
that frames my face as god in glowing clouds,
so I rebuke that darkness in the sea
that molded me from passion to fly free.

The whiteness in gloomy depths of my heart
contains the ancient truth I hope to see,
but one teardrop from Heaven falling far
erases vision of the unseen world,
so I walk backward on the signless road
that everyone wants to name for their god.

The fragmentary whiteness of my world
encloses me in meadow of lush grass,
so I stand breathing spirit of the sky
with motionless mind of the spinning globe
to feel how borders limit our landscapes
to scope of truth in what our eyes perceive.

The people in the village by the sea,
who support my poor family with calm care,
are swept into white depths by sudden storm
that hurls enormous waves of arrogance
with mute indifference of lightning-flashed wind
so not even their secret names remain.

The whiteness of the world offers no gifts
more than I would need to live each day
while tending apple trees by the blind lake
surrounded by strange darkness of the wind
that scatters leaves across my fenceless yard
on which I write these poems I never sing.

Nothing that exists in material form
transcends sweet whiteness of the cheerful dawn
beyond what spirit of the sky provides,
though faceless god whom everyone adores
never replies to my sincerest prayers
except that Nature keeps blooming with life.

Every land where my ancestors have lived
across ten thousand miles of their long road
has never belonged to them, though they lie
buried in its soil so their bones provide
lattice of honesty that forms landscapes
where I travel with my unpossessed heart.

We journey west to find home of the sun
ten thousand years over mountains and seas,
but find the Earth is round and never ends,
so I stop on rugged coast of the world
and give my alien spirit to this land
which sings my ballads long after I die.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus and Ophelia float together in the river, holding hands as they sing prophecies about the fall of America and the rise of Zarathia.

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