Dead God We Worship © Surazeus 2019 03 06 Dead gods follow me on the signless road, howling for me to bring them back to life by writing poems that glorify their lives, but I sit mute under the apple tree inside ruined walls of Heaven, and sigh as I watch sunlight flicker on the lake. We founded nations, empires, and religions, they declare in wind that howls through old trees, so we want you to preserve memories of our deeds and speeches in noble verse to preserve our souls from oblivion, but I shiver in chill of their lost souls. Picking up wave-smoothed pebbles from the beach, I see faces of those ten thousand gods uncarved from essence of eternity smiling at me from their indifferent roundness, so I blow my breath on sphere of cold stone and toss each god back into lake of time. Once I have thrown all gods back in the lake, I listen to soft voices in wild wind of the nameless people who lived through time and struggled to survive in times of war when gods of their religions fought each other to control the souls of mortals like me. Wandering alone in bleak ruins of Eden, where the first God ruled orchard of fruit trees, I find the skulls of gods and men alike cracked and mute among flowers where buzzing bees gather pollen to brew honey in trees, so I sing with sad birds in sunset glow. Gathering apples in baskets on large wagon, that grow from rotting bodies of dead gods, I sing about the gentle girl I love, then haul my wagon to the castle gate where people buy them for small silver coins, stamped with the face of the dead god we worship.
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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