Between Her World And Mine
© Surazeus
2025 12 13

If angel of light descends from the stars
and chooses to glow outside my locked door,
the vast distance between her world and mine
haunts my heart with intense desire to know,
so I sing ache of my hope to embrace
grace of her beauty long lost from this world.

Stunned by assertive passion of strange eyes,
I wander mute in forest of sad winds
to lie beside the shallow pool of frogs
till I sense invisible shift of light
that pulses with palpable vibe of truth
since I contain the world inside my breast.

Surrounded by waving ferns of concern,
I reach out to touch white moth of the moon,
and muse if angel of light may return
while I curl roots of my passionate hope
in sun-thawed soil of our slow-spinning globe
to contemplate relentless change of forms.

Awake in moon-shadow of ardent faith,
I gather dismembered fragments of dreams
to patch strange memories with threads of fate,
framed by clumsy gratitude of bright eyes
that stare through useless clouds of urgent joy
as unseen bats that constellate my heart.

They crowd my empty room before midnight,
those faceless ghosts of people I once knew,
who gather to discuss risk management
by filling boxes with thick documents
that analyze how floods destroy small towns
where mothers cook us potatoes and corn.

I study densities of river stones
in long reports about anger repressed
based on paintings that crowd ten thousand rooms
where angels dwell in landscapes of lost worlds
to ponder why choices result in how
we sail boats on floods from electric storms.

Invulnerable books of recognized myths
detail each time in history of mankind
angel of light hovers by my locked door,
so I record another song of love
contrived from psychotic anxiety
that flashes meteors across my mind.

I shall organize schedule of events
to render strong semantics mirrors seal
through iridescent thoughts of angel wings
that bring my true love safe around the world
when she appears outside door of my heart
and I open wide to embrace her close.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus welcomes Ophelia home when she returns to Scotland after visiting her mother in the distant river valleys of Scythia.

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