Shadows Of Their Souls © Surazeus 2019 03 10 From visible darkness my mushroom brain, sprouting outward on writhing wings of lust, converts rotten muck into tangled web of neurons flashing with pure divine soul to wake in superconscious dream as God who walks along mountain river of truth. Descending from indifferent mountain cave, where I saw contests for power between men as shadowy illusions cast by bright fire of ambitious hope, I enter arched gate of ancient citadel my fathers built, to stand silent in the grand council hall. Standing before my brother, who now reigns as king of our empire, I raise gold wand and declare, "I follow my own mandate, and condemn our father and you for crime of enslaving people against their will and forcing them to labor for your wealth." My brother gestures for guards to attack, but I twirl swift on rainbow wings of faith and swing gold wand I forged from mountain heart to smash all arrows and swords aimed at me, then stand triumphant in astonished court, frowning when my brother falls to his knees. I hesitate on verge of victory, worried I will become corrupted by power, acting from blind fear with cruel tyranny, but if I walk away from throne of judgment someone else much worse will assume the seat, so I sit to enforce true liberty. Sitting on throne of judgment to rule well, I declare all men and women now free from ownership by other human beings, and every soul shall be paid for their labor, then lift high holy grail of divine truth and drink blood of the Earth to seal new law. I walk about our kingdom every day, enforcing laws of justice for all people to ensure every soul with conscious mind lives free to pursue their own happiness within structure of our society so each does what they want, if they harm none. I marry the woman who tends fruit trees and teach our seven sons my noble laws, but they contest over who will reign next while I sit in high mountain cave, watching shadows of their souls on the wall, and listen to song of the waterfall.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Sunday, March 10, 2019
Shadows Of Their Souls
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