Slow Spin Of Earth
© Surazeus
2026 07 27

When shapeless shadow of the mindless sun
reveals eternal light inside my cells,
my heart is tricked to think my soul is real
beyond hot emanation of my brain,
but I float blissfully in surging waves
and let soft tide of time dissolve my pride.

I try to avoid unfortunate role
as king of ghosts when sunset light glows pink
through tangled lattice of tree limbs, but grief
clings joyfully to pulsing heart of faith
that binds my body to slow spin of Earth,
even if I want to harvest crow wings.

I am not absence of anything else
except my presence in the field of faith,
so air becomes my essence when I breathe
space where my electric soul has flowed
with vibrant passion to become myself
as I keep moving through currents of change.

With map of the city I left behind
wrapped around rotten sorrow of my heart,
I search for the house with one thousand doors
on the quiet road in the country town
where I lived when I was thirteen years old
to find the runes I carved on the glass moon.

The labyrinth that encompasses our world
has but one gate for every human being,
so I search every house where I once lived
to find my special key forged from my tongue
in hand of the nameless girl I still love
who gives it to me then goes back to work.

After I open dream gate of my fate,
I hesitate at threshold of the unknown,
then return to the house where she bakes bread,
bringing wood and apples for the hearth,
but when she kisses me with secret love
I transform into idol of her myth.

I climb eternal stairway of coiled truth
that spirals from core of the multiverse
while peeling orange of psychic synergy
to taste sweet sorrow of relentless joy
that sparks dreams of my ancestors to glow
with visions of survival I replay.

Now that I have almost finished the race
to climb the highest mountain of respect,
I dance on still point of the universe
till I become the spinning world of change
as my flesh frame disperses into words
that flash awake as children of my heart.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus wanders through the museum of faceless heroes to understand what motivates average people to create beautiful art from fear of death.

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