Hear Angels Of Heaven
© Surazeus
2025 12 21

I hear angels of Heaven call my name
so I wander outside in pouring rain
and follow sad birds to the end of time
but always end up back home at my cave
where shadows of faceless ghosts dance on walls
because my heart aches with passion to live.

Eight thousand years later in flow of grace
I find myself alive as this new me,
so I search for truth with Lamp of Respect
gleaming as diamonds in eyes of mankind
which reveals that god is dream of our brains
as ideal toward which we strive to evolve.

Illusions of faith fall as withered leaves
when snow of reality veils dark death
so I tend each fragile flower of faith
that blooms at beam of sunlight through black clouds
exposing heart of darkness with calm love
that guides our struggle to climb hill of skulls.

Though I stand alone as last soul on Earth
in vast library with ten trillion books,
I hear tales from voices of countless souls
so I sing to converse with memories
that weave my body in matrix of songs
till I vanish in vibration of thought.

We hear angels of Heaven call our names
so we gather in ring of stones by the sea
each time our way loops back on wheel of fate
because we return to the starting point
at hour the dead sun in body of man
resurrects from the longest dark winter night.

April opens endless cycle of change
at winter solstice when the sun stands still
then shifts forth with slight adjustment of growth
to start again seasons of birth and death
as our bodies bloom, create, and decay,
for we are atoms dreaming they are god.

No longer fools on first day of the year,
we share cups of honey mead in the hall
buried under blizzard of sparkling snow
till Wenceslaus comes in reindeer-pulled sled
to slide down chimney just above the snow
with bags of food and gifts from castle shops.

Though our feasting halls have crumbled to dust
that bury skulls of our ancestral gods,
and land we farmed is paved with asphalt lots,
we remember songs of angels on hills
who welcomed us inside safe haven walls
and taught us to write our names in the Book.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus helps Wenceslaus climb back up the chimney to his sleigh on snow that buries their feasting hall, and waves as he glides away to find the next hall buried under snow.

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