New Life Always Springs
© Surazeus
2026 03 08

Vague splatter of misty rain on soft grass
frames frantic despair of my heart with glow
of mute sorrow at constant loss of life,
yet new life always springs from mud of death
with flourishing passion of timeless desire
for us to dwell together in our space.

Paused at flaming gates to leave paradise,
I look back at shining temples of gold
where people cheer song of the noble hero,
then turn my face to emptiness of hope
and walk in graveyard of the lonely world
where billions of people killed in wars wait.

I almost hear their voices in the wind,
each one telling me of their tragic fate,
till all their spirits swirl in hurricane
of mocking laughter at God on his throne
who glares enraged that his authority
crumbles at relentless process of fate.

Instead of arranging flowers on graves
of innocent people mangled by bombs,
I scatter apple seeds that sprout in trees
so cemetery of our endless wars
transforms into vast forest of fruit trees
which nourish my body with love for life.

Billions of trees blooming from our dead bodies
transform material of our dreaming brains
to stars that glitter in vast void of space
with unrequited love for worlds of souls
who live and die with endless swirl of change
as we evolve from fish to singing god.

On every planet in the universe
one conscious creature pauses on their way,
and gazes through infinity of space
to see each other in mirror of love,
our special faces becoming one face
who sings our dreams in timeless song of light.

Though I may weep for every conscious soul
who ever lived and died on every world,
collective radiance of their countless brains
weaves my small brain in matrix of their truth
so I dream complex patterns of their lives
when I sleep under watch of the Moon Crow.

When I meet Circe on the ocean shore
and drink wine offered by her generous hand,
I find my mortal body of desire
transformed into immortal beam of light
when she gives birth to me from seed of hope
that drives me to live ten thousand years more.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus herds pigs for Circe who lounges in large temple on the hill and drinks wine till she asks him to play lyre of Mercury and sing because she is bored.

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