God In Temporary Form
© Surazeus
2026 01 13

Untethered from strange taste of ancient fruit
when I hang from my tail in Tree of Life,
I descend to Earth on angelic wings
to fly upright in surging waves of change
where I learn to walk on feet of firm faith
because I see my face glow in bright clouds.

Faint twang of words I speak with holy breath
vibrates through frame of flesh that binds my soul
with writhing beams of moonlight on dark lake,
still weightless on soft undulating waves
ten thousand years after I wake from dream
through evolution as I become god.

I wonder what pain of my body means
that pulses bold with fierce intent to grasp
elusive ghost of flashing energy
that fills my mind with sudden state of being
through clear insight at what my brain perceives
so I speak word that creates why I am.

Gold cloud of bees hum soft with anxious hope
from potent passion of hungry desire
at shock of insight that strikes at my heart
as perfect omen that frames puzzling thoughts
encased in vision of my crafting act
which I perform with gesture of good faith.

Enclosed by limited bounds of my being,
my spirit shivers at sharp gust of breath
that fills my frame with vast industrial cold,
assumed when arrogant ghost in my breast
asserts aggressive need to progress forth
against harsh wind that beats against my face.

Ten million years I spiral into being
by speaking words my brain invents to mean
conceptual objects I perceive as real
when I point to fear-tangled limbs of hope
and say "Tree" as I hold three fingers up,
true shelter of trust where we hold our tryst.

With each word I invent my brain creates
complex landscape of plants and animals
who roam among trees by rivers in vales
between mountains where clouds drench us in rain
that fills our bodies with intense desire
to hold each other with passionate love.

I crawl from womb of mother in the cave
ten thousand generations to transcend
each mortal body as immortal genes
transforming to wingless angel from ape
by singing hymns to idol of the man
who first plays god in temporary form.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus remembers when his mother taught him how to sing as they gathered eggs on the ocean beach.

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