Orchid Of Enchanting Truth
© Surazeus
2025 11 30

I wear soil of wet earth as skin of hope
so I can wonder how small angels fly
and tweet in fruit trees of their fierce desire
to generate new bodies for gene-souls
so they can dance forever on wild wind
that thrusts cold blade of fear into my bones.

Tall tree that stands forever on high hill
suddenly cracks and topples on its side
when angry demon roaring in rain clouds
hurls strike of lightning with aggressive grasp,
so I howl happily at death of god
who vanishes in swirl of hungry flames.

I cannot find clear pool inside my heart
that shimmers bright with weird angelic face
who seems to know dark secrets I conceal
till I stretch arms and legs to touch the sky
but I feel nothing of its gleaming blue,
then curl into my body with strange hope.

When angry words of shadows in gold trees
slice my skin with bitterness of hope
I feel sap of hot blood ooze from my eyes
so I chew fear in honeysuckle stems
till honey drips from carol of my tongue
to measure gracious curves of energy.

Because the tall pear tree by singing stream
remembers my caress at gleam of dawn,
I pull aside thick veil of tangled vines
to enter cavern deep into my heart
where ghost of every person I once knew
appears as glimmer in large diamond eyes.

Long before my brave descendants of faith
invent the door as frame of random dreams,
I organize disconcerting events
with judicious narrative that presents
ceaseless flow of passion within framework
assembling puzzle of my comic life.

Startled by orchid of enchanting truth
that blooms from corpse of my star-fallen god,
I bear witness to beauty of this world
in silly spells I teach children to sing
as they skip laughing on the river shore
while I imagine shadow of the door.

I cannot wait another million years
for god to evolve from the singing fish,
so I weave feathers of crows in long cape
then dance around the fire in ring of stones
to sing of Hero who wears mask of god
in battle against demons of despair.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus assembles four poles in sturdy rectangle in vain attempt to invent the door a million years before humans start to build houses from mud and fear.

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