Faceless God Of Truth
© Surazeus
2025 05 19

I need some sit-and-stare-at-the-wall time,
so I sit on the couch of meditation
and stare at the wall above the fireplace,
but not even one minute ticks away
before I see grand vision of the world
which I assemble from puzzle of dreams.

Before my grand vision evaporates
I dip tip of the brush in bowl of paint
and draw baseline of truth across the sky
to frame vast emptiness of everything
within enclosing bounds of time and space
to formulate state of things that exist.

Emerging from nothing of the white wall,
grand vision of the world blooms into shape
as field of shadows that reflect ideas
designed as patterns which objectify
swirls of material atoms into forms
which my brain may categorize with words.

Abrupt expression of ethereal breath
in gust of wind that blows from mountain peak
reframes constituent elements of faith
by scattering puzzle pieces of my mind
that flutter into butterflies of faith
which name each human soul born from the sea.

The old storyteller with oaken cane
shambles across desolate field of weeds,
searching for the cafe among clean shops
where he used to drink coffee and write poems
that vanished when planes with angelic wings
bombed his world into rubble of despair.

Sitting on tattered couch of sad nostalgia,
the old storyteller stares at the sky
where ghosts of ancient heroes float as clouds
till he crumbles into the soil of silence
while millions of people across the land
watch history tales on television screens.

I stare so long at the masks of dead heroes
that hang on the wall of my empty house
that I become the faceless god of truth
awake in every human brain on Earth
who clash in world wars over who plays god
till we become fairy tales in lost books.

Sitting in the Wingless Angel Cafe,
between the bank and the church on Main Street,
I draw the face of every human being
who ever existed in dream of Earth,
then throw Book of Souls in River of Time
so I can stare at the blank wall of truth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/05/…

Orpheus wanders across the desolate field by the Berlin Wall as she searches for the Potsdamer Platz where he used to drink coffee and write poetry.

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