Unbeckoned Horoscope
© Surazeus
2025 03 10

Trapped in transient sorrow of gravity,
luminous with unbalanced loss of love,
my heart coaxes me to break free from fear
and stand among pine trees on the mountain slope
till snow rebuilds my body of soft flesh
from frozen tears of angels without eyes.

Reborn from round ice-lacquered syllables
of endless knowing veiled by mute disgust,
my heart swallows forsaken cries with hope
death may unloosen angst of mortal lust
to chart disaster of propitious days
disbursed by naked hand of ownership.

steadfast in primer of false happenstance,
accrued through alphabet of solemn curse,
my heart adjusts unbeckoned horoscope
to signal progress of aggressive search
for treasures floating between broken hearts
based wholly on one solitary clue.

No cause for celebration from regret
through dark obliqueness swollen with desire,
my heart calculates doled disquietude
through legal contract for perpetual calm
unheaved by distant storms of restless hope
for souls imprisoned by collapsing words.

Aged blindly lost in shadows reconciled
from fractured mirror of its confidante,
my heart deliberates wisdom contrived
from stagnant doctrines of old fecund faith
devised by dreamers before honest fear
abandons children by the faceless pool.

Elliptical with mounting games of time
that spiral tight-wound galaxies of souls,
my heart obsesses over winning points
that should impress kind Sagittarius
who plants purple lilacs in the dooryard
that bloomed last before dark night of despair.

Annoyed by flotsam of matter, expressed
across vast crystal firmament of faith,
my heart peers through its mental telescope
to measure cogwheels of the psychic void
that grind blindly in our turning globe
first mapped and named by grim Chaldean seers.

Memories flashing bright as swift asteroids
that bounce across blithe brightness of respect,
my heart refracts divinity of thought
that bulges from magnetic field of wings
in buzzing force field shielding Earth from rage,
so I hold your hand as we walk our road.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus dances and sings on the mountain meadow as if he were Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music.

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