New Language Of The Heart
© Surazeus
2025 11 10

High in suspended leap of twisted truth,
I dream I fly above the broken world,
recycled spirit nurtured by nine stars
sparked bright to animate frame of my mind
that binds my body firm with ardent faith
through delusion of immortality.

Weird memory from my random life of hope
reverses mirror image of my brain
projected on taut tapestry of time
with grafted token of reluctant pride
entranced with patterns of humility
that children imitate in mocking play.

Reborn as Waterbearer for the world,
I stride bleak desolation of regret
with pitcher full of sweet demonic tears
imprinted clear with august arrogance
which culminates in victory for the swift
who focus brave attention on the truth.

Despite adverse arrangement of hard words
plucked from heart of the siren with my need,
my ghost engages strangers on the road
in wordless dialog of hollow hope
that sings in wind on tips of changeless dunes
because we build our home on shifting lies.

Since hurricanes of fierce indifferent faith
speak not the same language our brains invent
we stand awake in eyes of faceless ghosts
when we explore the endless maze of doors
where people talk about the civil war
that rages in some weird land far away.

Engaged in journey to the Promised Land
that shimmers bright in words of holy books,
we ask each other questions about faith
so we might grow through solidarity
though trees bend humbly in torrents of rain
which teaches us new language of the heart.

When I arrive on shore of this brave land
after sailing frail boat on the storm-wracked sea,
I speak of how I feel to blooming trees
but all my thoughts disperse as autumn leaves
so I forget odd mystery I had seen
which leaves my soul stranded in paradise.

Though voiceless after losing train of thought,
I walk in every city of our land
filling cups of the thirsty with strange tales
that fill their hearts with new experiences
so our dark hearts bloom as refreshing fruit
that angels eat to remember our names.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus emerges from cave of the underworld and sits alone on thought-stone by the river to contemplate how language frames our perceptions of the world.

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