Humble Guard Of Sibylla © Surazeus 2022 12 19 The color of the wind in this strange world pretends to understand the love I feel though I almost drown in pond of my thought attempting to see soul behind the mask that I wear as the face everyone sees because I like the pungent smell of red. We haunt each other in garden of light, forever circling trees just far apart to see each other among fluttering leaves as shadow of desire the mute sun casts because I want to ask you how you feel as we look past each other at the sky. The ladies in the market by the lake insist you are the oracle of Phoebus so people ask you what the unseen knows, but you tell them riddles that make me laugh so I think about softness of your lips, red as the cherry gleaming in the tree. Though you are distant as the shining moon you appear before me by pool of stars so I gaze lost in abyss of your eyes with wonder at strange beauty of your soul till my heart aches with passionate desire to hold you in my arms till we become. So when the haughty king from some far land, enraged by riddle you express in code, attempts to chain your hands with vulgar greed, I spring from shadow to arrest his hands and after fighting him with martial arts I swing wand of wisdom to whack his head. Somehow I find voice of love in my heart glowing bright enough to conjure my thoughts through eloquent sentence of my desire which conveys compassion of my selfless heart that motivates me to protect your life as humble guard of Sibylla the shy. Though all the haughty kings of our strange world kneel before your face in dark cave of dreams to receive wise words you channel from Phoebus, I see you as the shy delicate girl bathing in pond of truth with gentle grace who blushes when I give you fruit to eat. Removing mask that hides my fire-burned face, I tremble with fear you will run away, but you reach your hand to caress my scars, then hold me tight with joy as we make love so our souls swirl together in pure light with pleasure at creation of new life.
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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