Trickster Of Truth © Surazeus 2025 03 24 The great horned owl introduces the moon into reticent room of my vast heart, so I start my day as trickster of truth by sending flocks of happy butterflies to paint the world with blood-red light of dawn that wakes everyone with language of wind. The roots of trees draw sorrow from my heart, translating unknown fears to humble songs that measure curvature of my soul spine to speak with dialect of bodied minds which cleanses our hearts with glow of respect through wakefulness of unmirrored desire. In my idyllic world of steady faith I play guitar before the empty church and sing grand epic of the human race that praises humble people of the state who go about their business every day while face-painted clowns play fake power games. My fishing village at end of the lake provides bountiful wealth from heart of Earth where strong-hearted girls thrive in howling wind and cast bright snowflakes far across the land that sprout into periwinkles of hope where children play chase Sabbath afternoons. No more the world-exploring traveler I was when I was young and vigorous, I now am blowsy-headed gardener, dazed by strange beauty of her sun-lit face as we tend twisted trees of ghastly fruit that nourish the demonic in our hearts. Since I will never see the black egret wade in wind-rippled pond behind my house, I mold green shadows of weird psychic dreams in masks that humans wear to play as cows which graze among the dancing daffodils while I bare my heart to the healing sun. Packing emotional baggage of faith with false memories my dream-fears invent, I walk the signless road of everywhere past ladders that extend into the clouds to stamp obverse side of the royal coin with face of my father, the kind storm god. If clouds begin to serenade my ghost with the heart-enchanting afterlife lie, I will unanchor ship of my fierce heart to live unsettled life on restless seas so I can find the treasure trove of tropes I use to build this virtual world of dreams.
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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Monday, March 24, 2025
Trickster Of Truth
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Orpheus and Ophelia fish by the lake where demonic dreams swirl just below the surface of our happiness.
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