Horror Of Unspoken Grief
© Surazeus
2025 06 10

Your hard work and your bold sincerity
will always be your secret inner strength
that guides you through the darkness of your heart
to understand strange chanting of the night
which forms firm background of your wordless faith
that you are who you make yourself to be.

What you perceive in mirror of the world,
that shadows horror of unspoken grief,
fulfills essential nature of that being
who lurks in hollow cavern of your heart,
and fuels aggressive passion of each day
with stark supremacy of ancient truth.

So far beyond walls of your solitude
you stroll with casual eagerness of fear
to search deep down in nothingness of death
till silence swells vast as the stormy sky
which cracks your world in fragments of despair
you clutch with desperate hope of calm belief.

Supremely true of nothing you have felt
before this sudden crashing of the sky
is wisdom rotten from excessive hope
you bury in foul grave of your rich heart,
expecting resurrection of the cause
as fruit tree curling roots into your mind.

When you light first light of the silent eve
with reason to imagine intense hope
you feel strange flush of ultimate respect
disturb indifferent honesty of death
with power of miraculous contempt
that rearranges puzzle of your dreams.

Whole knowledge of the way things ought to be
contrives strict boundary of your vital heart,
obscuring order trapped by noble love
at long-sought rendezvous with nonchalance
despite sour sweetness of cool evening air
electric with unspoken truth concealed.

Within straight singularity of being,
defining how we think we should perform
our special role in drama of despair,
persists bright flame of angst authority
because we are within heart of our home
still glowing warm as summer ecstasy.

Our differences bind us in one weird soul
since knowledge that we soon will face the end
and vanish into nothingness of death
exerts essential nature from our core
which makes us human through experience
of pain that grounds our pleasure in true love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/06/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury while Wallace Stevens plays organ and sings hymn to Apollo in the mossy ruins of the ancient cathedral.

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