Desperate Hope Of The Fuath © Surazeus 2023 07 16 She reaches out her hand with desperate hope, the woman in the long green tattered dress whose eyes flash with black wings of the goldfinch, but the man in the muddy boots and hat keeps walking upward on the lonely road to find strange beauty on top of the hill. She wants to ask him when he will return but she swallows hot sorrow of her words because she expects he will turn around and frown at how the apple always falls, then disappear in pages of the book that makes no mention of her secret name. Without the cold wind on her flushing cheek she might never remember the first hour they walked together in the apple grove and listened to the goldfinch of the moon explain the meaning of eternal love with weird words they would try to understand. She turns away from where he vanishes and walks down wind-blown hill of matgrass tufts to crouch on time-worn stones in sparkling stream and watch the rainbow trout that flash with hope she cannot feel still glowing in her heart which quivers heavy as cold sun-lit stones. At sudden crack of lightning that bangs loud the woman in the long green tattered dress stands straight against the cloudless silver sky to see the soldier in the bright red coat aim smoking rifle at her beating heart so she ducks behind the twisted oak tree. Heart beating fast as the galloping horse, she clutches stick and stone in trembling hands as she feels flush of fierce aggressive rage expanding her body larger than the sky, then twirls to face the demon of her fear who laughs and clutches her neck with desire. Gasping for breath as he tears at her dress, she transforms into goldfinch with black wings and bashes his head with the river stone so he stumbles back and falls into the stream where rainbow trout devour his crumbling soul, and she cries all night with insouciant stars. Holding his fractured skull in her left hand, the woman in the long green tattered dress, whose eyes flash with black wings of the goldfinch, asks Death why we must suffer pain of love, then gathers raspberries in her basket case as she walks slowly on the wind-blown heath.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Sunday, July 16, 2023
Desperate Hope Of The Fuath
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