Cyclic Patterns Of Return
© Surazeus
2025 05 02

My ancestors once lived on river boats,
spending all day floating on silver waves
to flow with the current of constant change
that swirls in cyclic patterns of return,
day after day catching fish from the dark,
then roasting them on shore under bright stars.

Thousands of years later I spend all day
sitting at the desk in my cozy home
before the bright glowing computer screen,
designing maps that imitate the world
for my job supporting our state defense,
then writing poems to record history.

If I grow angel wings out of my beating heart
and soar into the sky among wild clouds,
I could gaze down on spinning globe of Earth
to dream its evolution over time
in how we organic creatures evolve
through generation of our conscious brains.

Then I could sing about the sparkling rain
that drenches fields of dreams where children play
hide and seek in primitive social games
that foreshadow how we live as adults
when we perform tense political games
over who wins power till we all die.

Too often as I work designing maps
while contemplating current world events,
I feel my heart ache with nostalgic hope
for spending all day on the river boat
to float with currents of self-controlled change
predictable with formulas of fate.

No individual can control world change,
though some assert their vain authority
by threatening violence sanctioned by laws
that should maintain social stability
except when people struggling against hate
revolt against oppressive tyranny.

Ignoring tales on internet news sites
expressed through conflicting narrative frames,
I walk alone my quiet neighborhood
to feel soft breezes of May kiss my soul,
and wonder when gangs of mad boys with guns
will kick in my door and drag me to jail.

How lucky I must be, I grimly smirk,
that no one pays attention to my dreams
smeared in black blood of demons on the wall
inside cathedral of the laughing clown
where howling skull of Hamlet prophesies
rise of Zarathia from ruins of war.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/05/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury and prophesies rise of Zarathia on the ruins of America.

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