Questions Beyond Rules © Surazeus 2023 05 07 The stark disaster of my starless fate counts not another loss against my faith as I let everything happen to me, both beauty and terror, sorrow and joy, yet I keep going down the signless road for I love the questions that guide me home. Escaping crowded city of desire, with nothing but broken pen of lost hope, I stand in empty meadow by the lake and listen to bright water explain why death crushes our bodies into mute dust, then sing the questions I can never answer. I call for birds to come down from gold clouds with endless hymn of existential horror so they bring mushrooms from the cave of Plato which opens flashing door of fantasy through which I float on wings of agony to ask the questions even death avoids. Since we live with promise in cave of death, integral parts of its galactic structure, we cannot untangle our conscious minds from cosmic neurons of our flashing brains, so we reach out our hands to grasp the fruit that wakes questions in our aching hearts. We live together for so many years, exploring strange complexity of time unfolding in vast landscape of this world, till death erases you all from the Earth, so I wander lost on the roadless plain, seeking answers to questions I forget. Though I sing to excavate grief from loss of beautiful people destroyed by fate, my body remains bound to spinning Earth, yet bird of my mind flies on hopeful wings across boundless range of all time and space till I become the question the world asks. Like smiling fish trapped under river ice, I am the Other hidden in my heart so with reflecting shadow of the moon I become the Bird Rider who designs patterns of behavior that weave my fate till I trick you with questions beyond rules. The globe in the square imitates the Earth with enormous weight of flowing light rays that formulate weird function of my brain when stories people write about their lives expand my consciousness of who I am with code that programs questions I invent.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
No comments:
Post a Comment