Epic Of Daily Life
© Surazeus
2026 07 27

How quiet glows this soft blue dawn of hope,
revived again from centuries of conflict,
mismanaged between hungry gangs of thieves
who fight to control resources of faith
that generate our bodies from sea slime
so we begin to believe we are angels.

Whose faceless spirit haunts my quiet dawn
through wordless whispers of innocent trust
that we shall bloom from sorrow of regret
which nurtures seed of possibility
designed by wanderers who came before
and marked their way on sad stone of my heart?

Aesthetic delivery system of song
preserves strange experiences of fear
when I face monsters of hungry despair
whom I must kill in order to survive,
so I kneel and weep with heart-wounded prayer
while I bury their dark shadow in Earth.

I never see the dead rise from the ground
nor wander moaning in the twilight zone
with rotting faces of horrible truth
that we are but organic glob of meat
which conjures temporary conscious soul,
then we all vanish to nothing at death.

If you imagine you can hear my voice
calling your name in leaf-fluttering breeze
that caresses your cheek with my memory,
your mind is inventing this breath of hope
to fuel your progress on the signless road
which I mapped for you to follow me home.

My special soul becomes another spark
of solar energy encased in flesh
that motivates my journey beyond fear,
though I still wander nowhere lost in time
with only shadow of your presence near,
so I pause and wonder where I am now.

Huge hills that bristle with electric trees
loom high above broad valley of tall grass
where sparkling river flows toward unseen hope,
but I resist charge of its constant motion
to stand alone beneath the silver sky
and wonder with sharp tears of laughter why.

Another sunlit span of unclocked time
provides broad stage of possible concerns
for me to organize new social system
that provides role for every human soul
to express desires of their secret hearts
as we perform epic of daily life.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus finds the Assy River Valley in Kazakhstan where his ancestors wandered more than a thousand years with horses and apples of the heart.

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