Energetic Faith In Dirt
© Surazeus
2025 05 18

Too long strange silence of the angel wing
vibrates ancestral memories of the stream
that floods the plain one hundred million years
till wingless angel of the aching heart
explores along the winding river shore
and picks up gleaming emerald of her eye.

Alone on grassy plain of floating stars,
she sings the ancient memory of our genes
that fuels her endless journey to the moon
which always gleams above the distant hills
and lures her to the land of apple trees
beyond horizon of the wordless wind.

The child who feels vibration of the rain
throb deep in crystal bones of honesty
knows why she is herself and no one else
in all the history of the universe,
for she collects the masks of long-dead gods
to hang on trunks of trees as ticking clocks.

Long curly hair swirls randomly in wind
as she walks slowly toward demonic light
that glimmers weirdly on the giant stone
which wavers proudly in her aching heart
till she arrives at edge of nothingness
to touch the solid coldness of the world.

What name of energetic faith in dirt
she breathes with vibrant passion of her tongue
defines complete expansiveness of self
wrapped whole in secret warmth of fantasy
which she decides must designate the face
who looks at her from shimmer of the pool.

Through misdirection of the twisted branch
that points beyond vast whyness of the sky
she feels soft hand of love enclose her heart
with gentle protest of the lonesome guard
who feels complete when she stays by his side
while glimmer of the sun binds their hearts firm.

Expressing vision glowing in her eyes
with vibrant words that slither from her tongue,
she tells him why their hearts connect in love
because we calculate our destiny
through each decision our hearts choose to make
when we seek wholeness of our secret self.

Assembled concepts of the fractured world
complete whole puzzle of their separate hearts
when they hold hands and walk in silent wind
to blaze the trail long signless in the sun
where we now drive our cars on asphalt road
that takes us round in loops of strict routine.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/05/…

Orpheus and Ophelia meet on the river shore where she weaves flowers in his hair as he chips flint into arrowheads so he can hunt for food to cook.

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