Find My Empty Grave © Surazeus 2026 01 20 Faster than excited laughter of rain that drenches my brain with thunderous good cheer, thoughts about how to survive rage of death swirl wildly in waves over sharp river rocks, yet I forget why I am still alive as I crouch on smooth stone of bitter faith. Tall idol that emanates from my brain projects grand myth of the hero with pride whose jagged mind of arrogant respect scrapes the night sky with hunger from despair based on myopic archive of lost fears which I initiate through monuments. Based firmly on conceptual stone of truth deep in vortex of psychic energy, I carve names of great heroes on stone cliff who contribute noble deeds without fear to sustain momentum of discrete growth through progress of polite chastity. Ensconced with courage on top the cracked slab, inherent in mind-spiraled modesty with selfless performance to defy death, I balance scales between epic concern and intimate sorrow which maintains trust through different keys of the same global play. Shocked by peaceful arrival of blind fear, I watch the blue butterfly of despair teach existential quandary of the word that melts contractual elements of truth with each explosion of soft water waves that shake foundation of my self-esteem. I sing molecular music of life vibrating from cells composing my soul with colorful ghosts of attentive faith through legendary laugh of eagerness to share this time and space of lavender with strangers trapped by random innocence. Because I am the learned Astronomer who calculates fate from choices we make, I feel stars wink at me with sparking shots as bright demonic eyes of solitude who know where I am in the maze of myth but laugh at me when I ask where I am. Wind chimes of dizzy hope wake me from death though I fold leaves in wings of alphabets that shine as lantern of my naked heart so I convince fine shadow of the boat to bear my withered spirit far from time so laughter cannot find my empty grave.
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, January 20, 2026
Find My Empty Grave
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Orpheus stops digging his grave and runs from one hundred screaming girl fans who tear off his head and throw it in the sea where Sappho retrieves it and sets it on the library shelf so he may sing forever tales of epic heroes.
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