Often Mistaken For God
© Surazeus
2025 05 20

That dying star that no angel can see,
which travels both directions beyond light,
sprinkles snow flakes of religious desire
on faces of the faithful by the lake
where their prophet who tried to walk on water
has not yet emerged from abyss of time.

As I stand on broken edge of the world
ready to dive into abyss of time,
I wonder if I should be sore afraid
of swimming in the ocean of my mind
to find the luminous soul of my heart
that I have often mistaken for God.

Should I surrender wisdom of my faith
to swim in infinite flow of desire,
then I would feel light of that dying star
glow in each neuron of my dreaming brain
so I speak with voice of the oracle
from the model of Delphi in my yard.

The Goddess with one hundred billion eyes,
who created this world of swirling souls,
teaches me how to speak of what I see
so she can know if anything is real,
yet I keep singing visions of my mind
long after she melts as snow into flowers.

Each sentiment of beauty I perceive
can never quench thirst of desire to know
divine concept of the right character
who gives me oranges from the tree of faith
that flash diamond flames in eggs of my eyes
so I record secret names of the dead.

We cannot rightly bifurcate the truth
by twisting wings of sorrow from god skulls,
yet we can dance with the divinely dead
whose faces smile from photos on the wall
when I decide each day which mask to wear
in sacred role of prophet no one hears.

Rewinding details of ideal concepts
from fracture of space collapsed into words,
I hold up the sky with keyboard of dreams
to program how the Earth perceives itself
through myths of fate in television shows
that lonely people sing about in church.

The dying star that flashes back and forth
replaces concept of my world with code
translating visions into fairy tales
that parents read their children as they die
whose luminous souls float in the night sky
that I have often mistaken for God.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/05/…

Orpheus dances with Alice Notley on the bridge that spans the Seine River while Baudelaire plays the violin of satire.

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