Blind Mother Sea
© Surazeus
2026 04 11

When I crawl from womb of blind mother sea,
with brain programmed to sing atomic tunes,
I explore tricky landscape of our globe
over three hundred eighty million years
till I stand on highest mountain of faith
and proclaim myself god in breathing flesh.

Then timeless fortune mocks my haughty pride
and trashes fantasy my brain designs
with cruel indifference of mind-twisting fate
that readjusts attention of my heart
to balance passion with obsessive rites
which I perform to evade strike of death.

Through self-control of scientific verse
I confirm my soul at flash of dire curse
that tricks perception of my curious eyes
with grand illusion based on human deeds
when I restrain assertions of free will
with laws designed to focus lust on truth.

Trapped by conceptual creed of bitter faith,
that bodies made of pulsing molecules
will resurrect from death at word of light,
I escape despair at surprise of truth
that we will disappear to swirls of dust
when our lithe lust-driven bodies decay.

I return to shore of blind mother sea
to hear again in hollow of my heart
relentless melody of surging tides
where I first learned to walk upright on legs
of curious passion to map the whole world,
but weep I am so far now from her song.

We humans have now mapped our spinning globe,
exploring every inch of her landscapes,
fertile plains, lush woods, rugged hills, bleak deserts,
and colonizing vales where rivers flow
with forty eight thousand cities and towns
connected in vast web of signless roads.

Though I have dwelled on surface of the Earth
three hundred eighty million years of hope,
I dream the twenty million years before
I spent deep in womb of the swirling sea,
forever swimming toward pure Eye of Light
whose voice still calls to fly beyond the sky.

I stand on wall that Nehemiah built
from bones of dragons carved in cubes of glass,
and survey lands across our spinning globe
where people gather around fires to sing
while kings in towers play chess games of war
over who controls the blind mother sea.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus sits on large stone by the soul-singing sea and strums lyre of Mercury in harmony with moon-attentive tides of turmoilous peace.

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