No Second Chance In Life
© Surazeus
2026 09 17

While walking somewhere on my road of fate
I look back down where my heart-steps have trod
so I can make the future happen right
because there is no second chance in life
since I can never loop back on myself,
then I become the sky of wordless wind.

I wake in sunshine of the flashing mind
and dance with carefree nonchalance of faith
on lush lawn of the river that reveals
ten thousand ghostly angels of the past
who linger in paradise of my dreams,
but vanish when I look straight in their eyes.

I stroll with millions of angels at dawn
on golden road of opportunity
up winding way to palace on the hill
where God the Holy Emperor of Earth
sits on the jeweled throne of timeless truth,
conceptual trope for global politics.

Ten thousand kings who ruled vast tribes of men
all vanished in the changing winds of time,
yet shadows of their vital being remain
as pristine portraits on museum walls
and tales of deeds in dusty chronicles
on shelves in libraries of made-up myths.

God is delusion of the frightened mind
because cruel tyrants wielding wands of fear
beat anyone who defied their commands,
enforcing strict obedience on mankind
through six thousand years of harsh monarchies
where mortal men claimed to be divine gods.

We hope this more enlightened age of facts
allows us to cooperate through faith
without oppressive tyrants chained by crowns
demanding we obey their selfish will
because we vote for honest-seeming men
to preside in councils guiding our states.

Malignant narcissists obsessed by power,
who seize control over vast governments
to impose their vision twisted by greed
on normal people struggling to survive,
always destroy themselves with haughty pride
since Fortune strikes them down with love for truth.

Yet God that theologians have designed
is trope that represents as character
the noble leader who loves every soul,
executing programs which organize
each person to play role based on their skill
so we generate life before we die.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus visits tomb of Jesus in Church of the Holy Sepulcher, then holds his skull in his hand and proclaims, "Alas, poor Jesus! I knew him, Surazeus: a fellow of infinite jest."

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