Goalless Road Of Hope
© Surazeus
2025 06 19

Once I encompass desert of despair,
proceeding on the goalless road of hope,
I feel unconscious jury of my heart
expand beyond blazing width of the sun
with accurate attention of One Mind
to estimate strange bitterness of pain.

Though ignorance is angel of my heart
that pilots me along the goalless road
past apparitions of our faceless souls
that bloom as petals on the wet black bough,
I build conceptual church of solitude
on burdened landscape of the shadowed moon.

Chromatic opposite of my pale brain
vibrates with fractured shards of arrogance
that spirals out from core of my heart void
with rich embellishment of wordless wind
through cyclic whiteness of stark assonance
as subtle sorrows rippling on the pond.

Though I indulge myself with faithful fear,
contrived by rich refusals of respect,
no proverb can suffice to allocate
extensive puzzles scattered on hot sand
across the flat horizon of my hope
because I hone my heart to edge of time.

My body maps the goalless road of fate
from birth to death in progress beyond why
by plotting course across the restless sea
as floating frame of shining molecules,
programmed with light to sing the river tune
which binds emotional reserve with love.

I see myself costumed in robe of fire
each time I enter stage of time and play
role of dire fate I choose to sacrifice
my mortal soul with shrewd sincerity
and save the world from horror of desire
though I continue to consider why.

When torrents of regressive rain disturbs
heart-tangled roots of ancient sprawling oaks,
they tumble down the rugged hill of faith
to crush the howling skulls of vampire gods,
exposing privacy of secret thoughts
which ravens steal from corpse of my blind soul.

Lost in dark maze of asphalt city streets,
drenched in relentless drizzle of cold rain,
I growl with primal dragon soul of lust
to fuel aggressive energy of power
so, reborn as Apollo from cracked Earth,
I strum the lyre of Mercury and sing.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/06/…

Orpheus visits Emily Dickinson in her flower garden where she serves him tea and crumpets while they chat about despair amid the butterflies.

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