My Shadow Selves © Surazeus 2023 07 29 Ensoulment of the child with demon wings reveals brief glory of the broken wall. Trucks full of things people make with their hands blur swift through snow on highways of desire. The farmer in the dell breathes orchid lust to feel strange rhythm of electric time. Through time relation to my shadow selves that are never born I become more real. Dim flicker glows from candle in the wind who dances in silk gown in moonlit rain. With fierce intensity of angry hope we rave to music in the stadium. With hungry passion for beauty of life we pluck guitar strings to validate death. With song of wisdom I howl at blank sky I try to elongate moment of hope. Through mild surprise at chemical respect I choose the brand that should define my soul. The goose struts by the lily pond at dawn to question slow machine of mental death. Though people gather at my empty grave the owl decides the reason we will die. Awake in scarlet quartz of timeless love, the lonely angel never reads the book. Before I die inside unopened door I must describe strange color of the why. Through regulated sphere of yellow how I worship things that represent my thoughts. Unstartled absence haunts my fractured skull that might be possible except for faith. With each occurrence of the falling rain we give each other keys to broken doors. The humming frog on toadstool of false time defines stone path I follow beyond home. Dry leaves insist on showing me the face that watches me forever from the moon. So I sustain vibrato of my voice to shock awareness of the mocking bird. Light stretches stark on desert plain of shrub with fragile vesicle of wordless hope. I should extend my hand to touch the wind that refuses to teach me how to fly. Inconstant shadow of fake consequence discards experience my ancestors hide. Conjunction of my shadow selves defines conceptual meaning of nothing I say. Thus I revoke state license to love well at rescheduled ensoulment of the child.
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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