Spheres Of Flashing Brains
© Surazeus
2026 08 23

My heart is borne by turmoil of the sea
with surging tides of frantic energy
that hurls me into flight on flowing waves
above weird vastness of the everywhere
since breath of time drives spheres of flashing brains
to generate our bodies from her hope.

No spirit beams in dark immensities
where Eye of God stares from blind emptiness
more dense than coiled despair of eagerness
on threshold of chaos where swirling love
devours whole planets of aggressive thieves
so we stare awed at flames of nevertime.

Since God can hear me everywhere I go,
according to what my old father claims,
I never speak with voice of sudden rain
to hide my thoughts from tyrant in the clouds,
but after my father dies in the grass
I never see this God he claims is real.

Awake in garden of the writhing tree,
I pluck bright orange of wisdom from the sky
and eat sweet juice of stoic innocence
that fills my body with intense respect
for aching sorrow of abandoned souls
who ask each other where they should go next.

I should express concern for laughing books
that swallow all our dreams in tangled skeins
no angel dares unravel from my brain
to weave new moral code from secret truth
that farmers scatter in furrows of fate
so roots transform our bodies into fruit.

Lost in vaporous fog of wordless hope,
I gather ghosts of all my pasts to float
in tandem with my journey beyond walls
so tremulous gleam of our happiness
converts fierce hearts of criminals to saints
so they create instead of destroy things.

Because the bird is born to sing in spring
I listen to her voice of timeless chill
when twisted hands of trees reach for the moon
since she leads me to hives of honey bees
where I fill jars with potion of desire,
untainted by grim bitterness of time.

Awake in this vast universe of ours,
I translate evil from selfish intent,
converting thieves to carpenters of truth
so I ask Rhea, ghost of sparkling seas,
if she formats my soul from verdant soil
in something worthy of the moonlit sea.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/08/…

Orpheus measures turmoil of the sea in relation to density of the god eye that cannot see true essence of our souls till we dissipate to nothing at death.

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