To Touch Your Why © Surazeus 2022 01 06 The last persimmon on the snow-white hill reveals strangeness of kaleidoscope eyes which cannot see the soul behind the face except when rain exposes silent pain so I walk backward on the signless road to find the person I love lost in time. The ancient hemlock by the asphalt road smiles sweetly at the smog-gray sky of fear while I wait by the twisted metal sign that says this road to old house where I live is the Dead End where even ghosts get lost so I paint your face on its silver back. The rancid cactus of the suffering clock draws circle of light around my cracked skull to translate color of history to rain so we can understand the alibi the wingless angel insists we accept because somehow we might still be alive. The sallow willow of the ghetto park watches homeless refugees of war play board games while bombs destroy religious halls though I wear mink-fur coat stained red with blood of tyrants we shoot when they crown themselves savior of the world on the evening news. The glowing hurricane of mindless bliss that nurtures purring brood of silver crows explains to me why death is absolute for every organism ever born on every planet in the universe so I sit in my river boat and laugh. The robust rhododendron of despair introduces me to strangers who know nothing about why the spider web sings confusing riddle about faceless kings who ignore augury of roaring planes to worship jellyfish god of the sea. The ardent apple tree in parking lots reveals the eyeless specter in the mist who waits outside my window before dawn to show me secret of the swirling snow so I sing love spells on the radio to people weeping as they drive to work. The errant eglantine of Avalon articulates strange shock of ecstasy when I find the person I love the most walking toward me in arrogant sunlight though empires fall at romance of the rose so I reach out my hand to touch your why.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Thursday, January 6, 2022
To Touch Your Why
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