Hollow Heart Of Liberty
© Surazeus
2025 10 20

If dry stones in the waste land sing to me
with voice of angels in the wordless heat,
I shelter hollow heart of liberty
among the heap of broken images
where branches twist from roots of silent grief
in angry trees that never blossom fruit.

Strange shadow of my soul under red rock
considers something different from our truth
based on stark fear in the handful of dust
that swirls in fresh wind of the verdant isle
where hyacinths bloom from grave of the girl
whose wet hair shimmers in my morning dream.

Though I could not speak of my aching love,
nor could my eyes see visage of her soul,
I gaze into the silent heart of light
to hear weird song of ocean waves call me
with eerie voice of wordless ecstasy
while I float mute in nothingness of time.

No clairvoyant with pack of tarot cards,
posing as graceful Lady of the Rocks,
attempts to read the fortune of my stars
then prophesy my hanging from the tree
when Fame discovers my safe hiding place
and drags to the public square of faith.

My secret horoscope in Book of Jokes,
programmed in riddling code of urgency,
lures me to walk Bridge of Forgetfulness
where faceless people, long undone by death,
still follow guiding star of rainbow wealth
that leads them to the wrecked ship on the shore.

Now no one sits on burnished throne of sight
that shimmers on high ziggurat of power
before fraught table of the sacrifice
where the Holy Grail topples on its side
and spills blood of salvation from the book
at stalemate end of our chess game with Death.

Paused on the busy street in cool twilight
before the bookstore glowing gold with hope,
I wonder why in sixty years of life
I have never heard the nightingale sing,
so I place diamond ring of solitude
on fractured marble mantel of my heart.

When long-departed nymphs of faith return
with Holy Book of Fairy Tales form Hell,
I sit beneath the apple tree of time
to meditate on the meaning of life
as I become Buddha Tiresias
spawned from the hollow heart of liberty.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus breaks into the Zarathian Museum of Fake Art and steals the diamond ring of Tiresias, then flies away to live with Lady of the Rocks on Patmos Island.

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