Paper Castle Towers
© Surazeus
2025 07 21

I will float gently into the good night
after tromping around the world of dreams
for eighty years from sea to shining sea,
parading with fairies, weirdos, and freaks
in grand procession lead by Dionysus
to break down the walls of Heaven with song.

Dancing at the Oregon Country Fair,
I drink star-angel mead from the rainbow fairy
whose golden eyes reflect eternity,
so I transform into the Spotted Owl
and glide ten million years in mountain woods
till I return to my frail human body.

When I ask the rainbow fairy at dawn
why we are born to struggle in this world,
she smiles and gives me diamond of her heart
in which I see the universe evolve
as galaxies spiral from the first flash
to nurture planets teeming with god souls.

Awake from theory of the floating mountain,
I build transcendent bridge no one can cross
where billions of ghosts gather in gold mist
to hide their sorrows in pockets of time
beneath the strawberry clouds of true faith
so we can live in paper castle towers.

She asks me if I understand the truth
about how water always flows downward,
but I gaze through the mirror of my mind
to watch the beautiful people of pain
paint their faces with blood-colored stripes
while Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury.

Descended from enormous dinosaurs,
the gold-eyed sparrow in the silver birch
sings sweetly of romance that fills our hearts
with shimmering shadows of the mirror mind
that helps us thinking apes accept the fact
that we are not gods and we all will die.

Dress in light yellow gown of lace and love,
black-eyed Shulan twirls by the fountain pool,
then gives me orchid of her lonely heart
so we hold hands and stroll along the river
where Queen Sequana gives us pears to eat
while seer Belenus prophesies our future.

Assembling in sacred Ring of Brodgar,
we palm our hands and hum in harmony
as Kwan Yin floats on white swan-wings of faith
to bestow blessing of wisdom on us
who write our secrets in the book of truth
as we float gently into the good night.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/07/…

Orpheus proclaims in his first sermon after election as President of the Thirteenth-day Adventurist Church that we are not gods and we all will die.

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