Cup Of Hot Chocolate © Surazeus 2022 12 17 In garden of monstrous melons she feels sweet consolation of unspoken words when she wakes up in middle of her life aching to sing lullaby to the dead who give each other gifts of arrogance while they smile and sip their hot chocolate. Still rootless after twenty thousand years, she walks along shore of another river where horror blossoms into her true face so she decides to care for the lost child who dies defending her against the wolf if the moon notices she is alive. As child of chaos in the silent hall, designed by architect with seven eyes, she calculates time to harvest the wheat but finds everybody dead in the dust since shadows hide secrets she wants to find though twilight wind explains excess of joy. Still awake in the middle of her life, she rides the wagon on the windswept plain beyond all sense of ever-changing time since laughter echoes between broken hills in pattern of the border that matures with pungent scent of flowers after rain. Decision to go one specific way out of ten thousand possibilities designs the fate she always would achieve, except for that one day by the sad sea when she goes everywhere she can at once, however clean the rain considers pride. Too old to not be happy anymore, she savors sweetness of the food she eats and gazes with amazement at strange hills lush with cedars that understand her pain though she never expresses it in words except to arrange stones in ring of truth. She tries to name each person in the world by knocking on doors of homes not yet built to talk about the man who always dies yet floats alive as glow cloud in the sky who watches us with eyes of ancient truth till we hide in faith of unspoken thoughts. Consuming monstrous melons before dawn, she lights small crackling fire in ring of stones with eerie flames that luminate the world which forms one giant circle of bleak hills around eternal still point of her heart when she gives me cup of hot chocolate.
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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