Weird Door Of Hope
© Surazeus
2025 04 27

The road of life that winds into the mist
too often seems to randomly go nowhere,
yet if I follow bright light of my heart
that reveals big picture of my dream chart,
I find myself with the people I love
safe in lush garden we create with faith.

Beneath the Tree of Truth where we first kissed
we soon began to feel how much we care,
so we hold hands on winding road of life
to help each other overcome all strife
as we share fruit we pluck from limbs of hope
so trees grow from seeds we drop on our path.

Entranced by dazzle of the flowing stream,
that blocks the signless road of cautious hope
we think leads to our secret happiness,
we sway in beauty of weird dizziness,
then hold each other tight with loyal trust,
charged with essential transience of our lives.

Our years together swirl into sweet dream
as we assert fraught sessions we must cope
with leaps of faith across dark emptiness
that teems with rich bounty of loveliness
so we attend lush garden of our needs
that blooms with fruits rewarding our hard work.

Though we advance on separate paths of toil
in project to enclose our paradise,
we link our hearts with voices of our souls
to ease production through our mutual roles
arranging plants with clear cosmetic plan
to build artificial Heaven in Hell.

Because we speak with language of the trees
to record chaos of experience
in simple catalog of complex thoughts,
we find ourselves becoming strict robots
trapped in hierarchic duty of blind fate
society expects us to fulfill.

To manage sadness of swift-passing years
we frame our sorrow as weird door of hope
so we can hide from monsters in the woods
by carving them as idols of our gods
whose fierce demonic faces make us laugh
when we recount the terror of their eyes.

The road of life that lead us to each other
contrived through random fortune of our hopes
to bring us face to face beside the sea
where we ate fish we roasted on the fire,
so we made meadow of our meeting place
to be garden home of our paradise.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus and Ophelia reminisce about the last twenty-five years of their life together while roasting fish by the lake in their secret paradise home.

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