Windshield Frame Of Hope
© Surazeus
2025 11 16

Perpetual journey of my restless soul
urges me to spend my wild precious life
forever on the road to somewhere else
as fairy-tale character on vain quest
to map our messy world with one neat myth
that answers all our questions in weird code.

Though all my ancestors had journeyed west
to find ever-elusive Promised Land,
I journey east to find their origin,
but get stuck in lush Appalachian hills
while war planes bomb homes in Scythia
where my first mother ran with prancing wolves.

No fair destination of my fierce heart
shines brightly in the windshield frame of hope,
so I keep driving past the pearly gates
since paradise becomes prison of fear
where desperate believers pray on their knees
for Jesus to return with sword of justice.

I drive the lonesome highway of the heart
to find the sea cave where the sun is born,
but stop in roadside cafe by rail tracks
to eat hamburger of grilled dragon meat,
then sit on the front porch ten thousand years
and play grunge folk songs on battered guitar.

When war-winged demon of lost history
escapes the falconer in widening gyre,
I know the central world view of our nation
spins wild with anarchy of innocence
so we must surf destructive waves of change
at ninth coming of Goddess Liberty.

Now paralyzed with complicit despair
that thieves have seized control of government,
we rise with brave Valkyrian respect
to march with holy flag of liberty
lead by Helios in chariot of fire
against bold tyranny of oligarchs.

For twenty thousand years small human tribes
journey along rivers in sturdy boats
to colonize valleys of singing ghosts,
but now we drive fast piston-engine cars
on pillared bridges above water flow
with nostalgic songs on the radio.

Unbounded spaciousness of endless plains
invites our journey into solitude
across existential bleakness of faith
through constellated night of unmapped fate
which I perceive in windshield frame of hope
that only has the meaning I assign.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus and Ophelia drive on a road trip from Oregon to Georgia to find that the Promised Land was always an illusion of refugees from religious wars.

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