Savor The Sweet Flower © Surazeus 2025 02 11 I want to hear the crickets in the woods tell me that Nature will be beautiful regardless of who rules the human tribe so I leave the house and let the door bang because of gravity that holds us down to solid necessity of the world. While I stand alone in cool evening glow among tall oaks that have grown in this place at least one hundred years before I came, and will remain long after I have gone, I feel the whole duration of this place root itself in memory of this brief hour. In the year the Statue of Liberty was dedicated with her Book and Torch, Lettie Quick traveled by train to attend, but, feeling sick, she stumbled to the platform, then sudden lurch of the train threw her off, so she spread her wings and flew to the moon. Our bodies remain buried in the Earth but our spirits vanish in nothingness and remain only in the living brains of people who knew us as memories, but they too will die in the turn of time and so our atoms become mindless soil. The red-winged blackbird in the cherry tree explains concept of social liberty, but I eat coconut ice cream and cry inside my heart because all creatures die, yet how beautiful is the timeless hour we are alive to savor the sweet flower. Black water of the winding river glows between snow-frosted banks with twisted oaks beneath the quaint Bridge of Forgetfulness where no one lingers in the afternoon except ghost of the girl who once lived here centuries ago, yet sees me in the mist. While everyone goes in the church to pray on their knees to the silent empty sky, I run in the woods and howl at the moon to express my faith in balance of change that light of atoms is conscious in me as I walk forth on path of fate I map. Divine light flows in waves of particles from first flash that flares forth from the big bang to weave our world in matrix of star souls who gather on the river shore to sing in harmony with birds and animals who ask us humans not to destroy Earth.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
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Tuesday, February 11, 2025
Savor The Sweet Flower
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Orpheus visits the grave of Lettie Quick and cries while the red-winged blackbird sings about liberty.
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