Projection Of Conscious Souls
© Surazeus
2026 11 03

While wading knee-deep in cold lake of eyes,
Phoebus explains with earnest nonchalance
that God is projection of conscious souls
who see their spirit mirrored in the world,
so they mistake shimmer of their own soul
for supernatural mind that controls all.

When beam of sunlight breaks through black rain cloud,
Phoebus stands in bright shaft of holy glow
and asks God in crystal starship of fate
to rapture him to Heaven on gold clouds,
but nothing transports him beyond this world,
so he turns to us and grins as we laugh.

Am is the first word mankind ever spoke,
gazing at face of first mother with love,
because she hums hymn of attentive care
while feeding us milk of the spinning world,
so we stand on the lake shore of our dream
and chant Om with vibration of respect.

Rain splatters on leaves of the apple tree
where Am, first mother of humanity,
cradles her child, she names Ba, at her breast,
and teaches him to name each thing they see
in cunning spell with playful melody
while she gathers apples, berries, and eggs.

Ascending small ziggurat ten feet high,
Phoebus faces people camped on the beach,
who feast on roast fish and hot apple cider,
then strums haunting tune on the cow-horn lyre
and sings hymn to Great Mother of the Sea
who protects and feeds all lost wanderers.

Dreams of memories, my ancestors lived
centuries ago by long river of time
before my current soul-body was born,
program how my own brain perceives this world
based on framework of language they designed
that controls how I see things perform actions.

Vision of their successful actions drive
progress of my quest to become myself,
authentic replicant of my ancestors
till I swerve off expected path of duty
to blaze new trail of my own psychic sense
when I realize I am Phoebus reborn.

When Phoebe, daughter of Phoebus, presents
Cronus as man she loves and wants to marry,
I feel spark of eternity expand
from primal cause of passion in my heart
to sing about harsh struggles of mankind
as we strive to become God we respect.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/11/…

Orpheus gives me lyre of Mercury that has been played by thousands of poets over ten thousand years so I strum weird melodies and sing about our quest for truth.

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