Ghost Of Shimmer-Thought
© Surazeus
2026 05 09

When I kneel at fern-wreathed curb of the well
to see strange whiteness Robert once discerned,
I see no godlike ghost of shimmer-thought
behind mask of my simple mortal face,
so I pretend with smirk of innocence
that I perceive true essence of this world.

Sun-dappled lilies of the valley bloom
from graves where my ancestors rot to dust
along lost roads of verdant urgency
since patterns of transcendent ideal forms
mold matter into transient beings of light
which weaves meaning out of random events.

While trudging endless road of prairie grass
beside four-wheeled wagon of dreamy hopes,
I seek glow of enchantment in bright hills
that whisper secret tales in wordless wind,
revealing secrets of this ancient land
where grim demonic shadows of fear lurk.

I sense weird spirit of faceless regard
as meaning immanent in mindless things
that I project with passion to express
transcendent vision flashing in my eyes
which dissipates in sudden gust of wind
so I see river valley as it is.

Vast cities in lands far across the sea
teem with gangs of men fighting for control
over whose god bestows their right to live
with fierce ambition to claim providence
for calm consumption of material wealth
providing nourishment for psychic growth.

No cities gleam on distant hills of hope
beyond horizon of potential peace
so I imagine divine providence
beams rays of light on river vales of hope
to highlight opportunities for growth
where I may thrive far from castles of greed.

This vision of new opportunity
drove my ancestors in long wagon trains
over rugged mountains of agony,
across windy prairies of urgency,
to build new homes on river shores of faith
far from oppressive grasp of tyranny.

Now tyrants reach their hands across the land
to crush all opposition to their greed
as spirit of Rome looms over lush vales
to expand empire of social control,
so I stand on wild beach of Oregon
and laugh because our crowded world is round.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus appears to young Mary Frances Lee beside covered wagon on the river shore along the Oregon Trail, and teaches her how to sing magic spells of truth.

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