River-Book Of Fate
© Surazeus
2026 06 20

Attentive way I row boat of my heart
along the random journey of my life
exposes secret agenda of hope
written in private river-book of fate
in which I map psychic landscape of faith
my ancestors explored in paradise.

If I should pause from visions of my thoughts,
that spiral through frantic analysis
concerning trajectory of my life,
I may hear splash of water on my boat,
and feel warm glow of sunlight on my skin,
and hear unseen birds chirping in tall trees.

When I emerge from shelter of my mind
to gaze at vastness of the silver sky,
I almost sense some presence of pure light
observing my existence with keen eye,
but I realize with sly grin of respect
that I project my own mind at blank sky.

Though bards of yore in hills of Avalon
sang how they sensed great spirit of the Earth
radiates from all Nature as Divine Mind,
I know that conscious scope of cosmic love
emanates from neural net of my brain
with arrogance that I beam Soul of God.

My brain refracts eternal Soul of Light
that pulses bright in atoms of the void,
enhancing conscious sense of self I Am
reflected clear when I quietly observe
rivers flowing among hills of fruit trees,
and feel my soul in matrix of its dream.

With every choice of action I perform,
based on analysis through measurement
to discern process of cause and effect,
I compose my whole river-book of fate
through chronicle about random events
which I narrate in straight coherent plot.

Yet tangled threads of acts people perform
in sprawling landscape of this cluttered world
fall apart in chaotic mess of faith
which fails to account for all variables
refracted through too many points of view,
so I hum in tune with the river flow.

Since I cannot record every event
that happens in our sprawling maze of myths,
though I wear mask of countless ancient gods,
I roast the fish I catch in stream of dreams
to eat and drink beneath the silent moon,
and wonder where I will go when I die.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus relaxes by the River Styx to eat fish and drink wine while contemplating whether or not there is an afterlife, then cries thinking of Eurydice.

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