Echoes Trapped In Vows
© Surazeus
2026 01 17

In bitter rain of the cold morning hour
all I know are thick mud and tangled trees,
so I search the world for the last gold flower
that intoxicates me with scented breeze,
till I ask ghost of the horse with gold eyes
how she unveils dizzy sun in the skies.

Enclosing me with ancient eyes of light,
snow horse explains how angels without wings
explore our dream world in fantastic flight
as mushrooms bloom in moon-round fairy rings
because I speak in echoes trapped in vows
while writhing with hope under golden boughs.

If I can play baptism of the brain
to understand strange riddles of the clown,
I might arrive at work unwet from rain
at oldest crowded restaurant in town
where I bring plates of food to hungry souls
who excitedly discuss social roles.

The countless selves that separate their masks
from faceless core at center of my mind
imitate me when they perform weird tasks
that sustain social system men designed
because I hide in home of doorless fear
at second coming of the puppeteer.

My younger self on swing of ardent faith
attempts to leap into bright sky of joy
but disappears in mirror of the wraith
to challenge God with puzzles seers employ
in mental game of chess in tune with Death
who teaches me key of celestial breath.

Sad orphans wait for parents to return
from grand amusement park of bankruptcy
despite noble expressions of concern
church leaders sell to steal dream gadgetry
sealed to hide bloodline of the holy grail
through lost heritage of the great white whale.

Awake at hour of midnight outside Heaven,
I search for mask from ancient gallery
designed to enchant spirit of the Raven
whose secret project of world wizardry
realigns structure of great nation-states
to tangle genes that favor divine traits.

Enwrapped in satin cape of princesshood,
I name each person on the signless road
who wants to live in pleasant neighborhood
where every soul bears the same heavy load
in struggle to transcend our mortal state
since we choose how stars reprogram our fate.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus realizes how amazing Ophelia is as he watches her waitress at the popular crowded restaurant every rainy Saturday morning after Sabbath services.

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