Dreams Become Second Sight
© Surazeus
2026 06 21

Though my dreams never become second sight,
I extract blind premise from nameless core
which shadows my face with elegant code
defining light that streams from statue eyes
yet washes sulking sorrow from my heart,
so I almost miss meeting with old spies.

With tedious courage of the undrowned dead,
who teach their children how to start the fire,
I fear what hovers over me with wings
because the color photograph I took
that depicts the lake in the mountain woods
appears on postcards all around the world.

Teased by the star-eyed owl on broken wall,
I dig my pulsing heart from gritty beach sand
to clean my soot-rimmed eyes with arrogance
that I know where this path of passion leads,
yet I keep walking toward the broken ark
to prove salvation can never be bought.

Because I stop by the birch in the lane
to measure heights of clouds above false roads,
time jolts untuned assertion of respect
for fetters of concern I pledge to show
when chorus of mad frogs express grand awe
for swirls of snow that reveal face of God.

Since clocks of molecules in oranges hum
with psychic tune of brash divinity
that vibrates through all living things on Earth,
I place my hand flat on surface of ice
to understand true nature of the pond
which deigns to reflect my true secret face.

Surprised when my dreams become second sight
at vision of Belinda in gray mist,
I count stones lined along the river bank
that hide our voices from authorities
so we can see shapes of our secret selves
preserved in statues on cathedral walls.

I seek protection from Aegidius
who prances on the mountain slope of fate
with graceful goatness of naivete
in search to find birth-cave of humble Zeus
who teaches me to write the alphabet
with quill of angel wings dipped in god blood.

So once I climb this grandiose mountain peak
I shall meet all my friends in gray Paris
to write the greatest novel ever bled
from broken hearts of cruel antagonists
who seem to know the way to Samarkand
where my heart functions as the clock of fate.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus hangs out with a bunch of failed novelists at the Crippled Pegasus Cafe in Paris where Pierrot pretends to seduce Cinderella from Romeo.

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