Weird Hour Of Storms
© Surazeus
2025 05 03

Not since weird hour of storms across the plains,
that crack dark mirror of the humble soul,
have angels known the honesty of fear
when souls of humans rage wild as the wolf
then float on rivers with lithe otter grace
till we remember how the fruit has grown.

Thus we shall meet beneath the twisted tree
at hour when seven moons of death appear
to shine with beauteous bounty of respect
though we are hungry for divine despair
that we express through songs of ocean waves
that still remind us we have secret names.

Confounded by swift gallop of the horse,
that brings with sudden swirl of subtle breeze
mysterious angst of love borne from the deep,
we share our shocking tales of puzzling grace
disbursed by brightly shining ghosts of time
who seem to know where we conceal our bones.

From darkness blossom spirits of the saved
who bear abstractions writhing in their hearts
to lurk with urgent care in shadowed woods
with special luminance of ardent faith
which lights our journey to the Promised Land
as if we know how long weird stars may shine.

Flesh buzzing with electric energy
on laughing clouds excluding rancid faith,
we rise from bubbling lake of happy slime
to share experience mushroom-fueled with love
through boundless sorrow to drink soul of light
since we know freedom of tree-shivered hills.

Awake ten million years of dreamless hope
to taste each drop of rain from heaven hurled,
we help each other gather nuts and eggs
from generous bounty of contorted soil
while wading knee-deep in delicious swamp
to catch lithe serpent of aggressive death.

We ask no questions of the mossy stone
that has not moved in twenty million years
except to meditate on mountain cliff
with stoic calm displayed by twisted oaks
that curl from edge of infinite disgrace
with sterile promise that our souls can fly.

White egrets gather shrieking clever jokes
in swollen canopy of bitter trees
to prove with formulas framed by desire
that we are angels fallen from storm clouds,
so we rise up on trembling legs of faith
and stride forth from the wilderness of song.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/05/…

Orpheus leads his tribe across the plains through thunderstorms to find the valley of the singing fruit trees where they build vast city of jewels.

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