Name Of My Mother
© Surazeus
2025 05 06

When my mother, who created my soul
from spirit of my father to transform
their two separate immortal gene codes
in new body which nurtures my brain dream,
fades into shadow of her memories,
I carve idol mask to preserve her face.

Our mothers create our bodies from light
so neural networks of our brains project
immortal sense of conscious self-awareness
which conjures virtual model of the world
as we glow bright with passion of desire,
then decay and disintegrate to dust.

How strange to think the mother who creates
our mortal bodies with immortal atoms
will herself decay and fade into shadow,
though she embodies Creator of Life,
that vast unconscious glow of energy
which sprouts our bodies from womb of the Earth.

Sprouting from rich soil of our spinning globe,
we spring into life on wings of desire
by breathing ethereal spirit of hope
to rise from writhing flames of molecules
and journey on quest for soulmate of love
with whom we generate new life from light.

Each mother who has created my soul,
reborn four hundred million years of hope,
from spirit of each father urged by love,
bloomed rich with fertile energy of faith,
nurtured immortal soul of our gene code,
then dissolved into dirt that forms our world.

The bodies of our mothers form the Earth
as soil which nurtures fruits and herbs we eat
so matter of atoms pulsing with light
assume new patterns as we evolve bodies,
fish to lizard to mouse to cat to monkey
to ape to human, till we become God.

Thus when my mother passes from this world
I eulogize her journey through her life
and write her name in Book of Human Souls
so her spirit lives in my memory,
though her conscious sense of her special self
will vanish into mindless glow of light.

Since Heaven where souls of light dwell with God
is nothing more than futile fantasy
designed to heal hearts hurt from loss at death,
I record name of my Mother in song
as mirror mask she wore to preserve tale
of fate she made with choice to create life.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/05/…

Orpheus visits his aging mother Calliope, eldest of the Muses, and Muse of Epic Poetry, by Castalian Spring on Mount Parnassus.

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