Theology Of Global Fame
© Surazeus
2025 08 24

Refusal to accept star-tangled fate
fuels my ascendance to the gate of truth,
alone for twenty thousand years of change
while writing brain programs from clownish rules
that form theology of global fame
for people who refuse to play the game.

Exposed to bitter elements of fear,
I gather words of flowers from dark fields
with hope of unconcerned naivete
to reassemble world view we designed
from fragile tokens of assertive faith
that fools employ to prove their right to laugh.

Reluctant to remember how I die
each hour the fractured sky of gleeful glass
falls as snowflakes on the naked land,
I huddle by the ever-flowing river
to study how my stream of consciousness
nurtures trees that grow from rotten brains.

I have no innate need of being versed
in country things for houses in the wind
or stony roads that wind into sunsets,
regardless of how often we face death,
so I invite sly birds of everywhere
to fly through broken window of my heart.

I dwell long on what has been in the past
in order to see where I need to go
across the muddy field of innocence
in fruitless bid to rebuild friendly walls
where lilacs bloom around the rotten elm
now staged as home for honey bees to live.

On snowy evenings under diamond stars
I stand on back porch of suburban house
where I lived when I was sixteen years old
with book of essays Ralph Emerson wrote
to stare at ancient gleam of Mount Rainier
while waiting for my angel wings to grow.

As swinger of birches, born in the woods,
I study cobwebs dripping gold with dew
to understand perfection of the eye
that generates virtual world in my brain
where I can fly up to Heaven with wings
instead of stumbling lame on mindless earth.

Indifferent Nature understands my heart
stirred by desire to cultivate the land
with seeds of fate I scatter with my hand
in soil that willfully misunderstands
puzzle of fate I assemble from dreams
that leave me sad when I wake before dawn.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/08/…

Orpheus gazes at Mount Rainier glowing gold at sunset and wonders if the sleeping volcano may erupt from wrath of Jupiter.

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