Light-Winged Dryad
© Surazeus
2025 03 26

The light-winged dryad of the trees calls me
to dance with her in blooming hemlock grove,
so into numberless shadows we twirl
on pungent shore of sparkling Lethe stream
to ease sharp ache of sorrow in our hearts
by sharing pleasure of our mortal souls.

With slavish thirst of chemical-bound frames
we drink sweet water from the Hippocrene
that bubbles deep in forest of dead gods
whose voices echo softly in the wind
with lustrous eyes of drowsy memories
that make us groan when we kiss at sunset.

No longer full of sorrow or despair,
because we stay together hand in hand
while blazing our own pathway in dark woods,
we wander secretly where stars guide us
far from the crowded streets of market towns
to find where Queen-Moon lies among flowers.

Where Bacchus dances among white hawthorns,
deep in thick groves of winding mossy ways,
we seek strange beauty of grim star-eyed Death
whose horror teaches us to love our lives
and treasure limitations we secure,
which nurtures fragile spirits of our hearts.

Thus fortified with pastoral glow of faith
that strengthens us with courage of the truth,
we venture into maze of crowded streets
to comprehend with clear observing eyes
mystery of competitive money games
people perform to gain power of wealth.

Sweet heart-enchanting music of the stars
sung by immortal nightingale of hope
long charmed our hearts with vision of the world
where every person honors rules of life,
but now its calm inspiring requiem
fades trammeled by commercial shouts of greed.

Divine melody of her plaintive anthem,
which animates our bodies with Star Soul,
sung by deceiving elf inside our hearts,
writhes twisted into parody of faith
by men obsessed with fame of thought-control
willing to buy anything with the coin.

Long trapped in labyrinth of social greed
as helpless pawns in pageantry of power,
we assert halting steps with urgent cause
to escape frantic market place of fear
and seek to dwell again in meadow grove
where birds sing freely by the sparkling stream.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus and Ophelia manage to escape the market place of Pandemonium and return to the lush meadows of Elysium to tend their plum trees.

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