Stories Mirrors Tell
© Surazeus
2026 06 14

I have read all the stories mirrors tell,
pursued by gold-tongued furies of concern,
unreal as angels in our grocery stores,
startled by scattered brilliance of false faith
that severs my heart from kite of the sun
with suddenness of unwanted world fame.

Waves of green memory engulf my heart
with tattered pages of electric books
that recount fight for crown of global power,
though I sail far on argosy of hope
in vain attempt to find the Promised Land
that always vanishes as we approach.

Though rational light of social insight
disperses shadows of religious faith,
I cling to fractured rainbow of one fact,
that we are temporary flames of light
undone by ecstasy of secret dreams
which I decode in stories no one reads.

Green odor of strange darkness in the tree
uncovers coldness folded inside leaves,
moon rays that rustle softly into words
which weave strange web of silver-shimmer light
that binds support pillars of belief
to bridge vast emptiness between our hearts.

Strange seeds of proverbs, secretly discerned,
flicker forth from arched bough of ecstasy
to veil my grave with pages of old books
at supple rocking of infernal light
that teaches darkness how to flow till dawn
so I taste perfect sorrow of desire.

Night flowers into stories angels steal
by giving fruit to wounded refugees
who crowd streets of clean cities with despair,
forbidden to own land or labor well,
as if our hearts are leeches to be crushed,
so we clutch handfuls of hydraulic dust.

Roots twine about my pulsing heart with faith
that all we build will crumble into sand
through fertile season of electric birds,
so I leap over garden walls of hope
that harden brave around astringencies
when I adjust somnolent grace at dawn.

Though we still process summer balances
with frantic gaiety of elephants,
I package fractured memories of fate
in polished casement of Plutonian pride,
which I intend to hide in state archives
that should preserve decrees of solitude.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus polishes mirrors in Palace of Apollo which has ten thousand more than lost Palace of Versailles where devils prance in silk and cotton wings.

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