Way Of Flowing Streams
© Surazeus
2025 03 28

If the moon could speak, she would tell me why
sad people are never allowed to cry
while they hang upside down in the Joy Tree
and sing anthem about how to live free
through clarion call of the mountain wind
with broken hearts only beauty can mend.

If the noble stag of the forest grove
escapes the hunter for the treasure trove,
my heart leaps laughing with joyful respect,
foolhardy guest devils fail to detect,
so I ask the moon why humans must die
who tries to explain the afterlife lie.

Since I can never know your secret heart,
though I trace your fortune on the star chart,
you remain completely unknowable
therefore I choose to find you lovable
each day we wake together in our space,
still in love with your mysterious face.

If fear constrains me with paralysis
of desperate hope forged from analysis,
I transfer anguish to the puppet show
that I perform in soft blue evening glow
till soldiers shoot us for protesting hate,
defined by commands of aggressive fate.

When people who can hear vibes of Earth Soul
invent loud silence that no bell can toll,
we gather to protest cruel tyranny
till we are inspired by epiphany
that songs of faith can cripple feeble power
and free Liberty from the Ivory Tower.

With pulsing material of frantic light,
contrived by flow of time untangled right,
my heart paints portrait of the soul I love
who wears pretty mask of the willing slave,
yet we give each other freedom to play,
choosing in the end to unite and stay.

More than halfway to the end of my tale,
I leave church where everything is for sale
and wander in ephemeral glow of faith
to find pure emanation of my wraith
that guides me toward the vale where I will sleep,
so I ask the Earth my frail bones to keep.

Whereas our hearts are equally intense
with loyal passion of our future tense,
we share one winding road of earnest hope
to help each other thrive well as we cope,
so we generate children of our dreams
who help us map the way of flowing streams.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus and Ophelia celebrate her birthday with their children Ostara and Orion by eating cake and dancing in the backyard.

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