Rugged Hills Of Arcady
© Surazeus
2026 06 20

After I escape from cold cement maze
where hordes of people speed in metal cars
in contest over who gains cheese of wealth,
I roam through rugged hills Of Arcady
and lounge with Orpheus by the River Styx
where angels wearing masks of devils dance.

I kneel in wet grass by the sparkling stream
and dip my hand in sorrow of desire
to fish for sublime truths and wholesome themes,
but I perceive reflection of my soul
masked by this temporary face of mine
that hides strange ache of hope inside my heart.

When I hear weeping of the broken heart
that causes snow to fall in summer time,
I see Adam and Eve wandering lost
on signless road from gates of paradise
who search forever for the Promised Land
that shimmers beyond horizon of vain hope.

Then I hear laughter of light-hearted souls
where siblings Dorothy and William stroll
along lush margin of the River Styx
where they see endless rows of daffodils
dancing merrily in the shining sun
with passion to sense the divine in Nature.

For every human city on our globe
springs from first city of humanity,
that garden in Eden where fruit trees bloom,
till God enclosed them inside walls of stone
and forces us to buy fruit of the Earth
with metal coins forged in hot caves of Hell.

Narcissus stares at his face in the pool,
Saturnus slumbers numb on river shore,
Orpheus wanders weeping for lost love,
Icarus floats stunned on wild ocean waves,
Lucifer bears cracked Lamp of Liberty,
and I wonder if I am real or not.

Beneath broad-leafed myrtle of innocence,
I watch bright clouds swirl slowly in blue sky
till Evening Star gleams brilliantly opaque,
so I feel life of every soul on Earth
that eddies with atomic flash of love
far from the city stage on Helicon.

My spirit, too long trapped in creeds of faith,
entombed inside strict duty of the church,
urged me to open door of fearful rage,
so I now walk with hawk-winged heart of hope
across the rugged hills of Arcady
where star-eyed Death waits still to hear my song.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus explains to the crowd of people in the Museum of Dead Gods why no one ever returns from bourn of the undiscovered country of death.

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