Demon Wings Of Hope
© Surazeus
2025 08 23

Stark silence of the canyon-hearted soul
expands beyond walls of the spinning globe
where children of the ocean crawl on rocks
to reach for stars that bloom as golden fruit
which sparks their hearts with visions of world peace,
yet fight over whose version is the best.

Blank door of my soul opens in the sky
so I soar down on demon wings of hope
to scatter apple seeds on parking lots
so trees consume towers of steel and glass,
providing shelter for birds of the mind
that laugh at how I weep for liberty.

Strange sunset glow of timeless urgency
gleams deeply sad on endless winding road
that leads our quest round grim Ohio hills
on hopeful journey to the Promised Land
that always shimmers with inviting dreams
just beyond dim horizon of tomorrow.

Young woman wearing black mask of the crow
stares longingly at sky of empty words
while silver rain slithers down her long hair
since words do not always agree with deeds
without context of calm perplexity
till I return from sailing the world sea.

Except for how time redesigns my face,
I never change essential state of being
that radiates from cracked clay bowl of my heart
through fraught reverberations of blind gods
who ride the wagon train on signless road
that winds along the river of black blood.

Awake on bridge of frantic energy,
I am concerned how rocks on lonely roads
chat about artificial intelligence
since I am working on a much higher level
that anyone else in the crowded world
as top critical thinker of all time.

At the hour of our birth each human being
is assigned our name, religion, and race,
then spend the rest of our preprogrammed life
defending that fictional identity
that remains as mask of our private tale
hanging on museum wall of lost souls.

In our unseasonable reprieve from fate
after climbing sunless mountains of fear
we remove our fur coats with aching sighs
to dance among the apple trees of faith
after our civilizations collapse,
then tell each other stories as we die.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/08/…

Orpheus sells demon wings of hope from his roadside stand at the weekly farmers market in the quaint college town where people from all over the world wander lost.

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