Reunion With The Dead © Surazeus 2023 08 03 Fantasy of reunion with the dead blinds billions of people to the stark truth that we vanish to nothing when we die, for the fact that we blank out when we sleep proves self-awareness of our consciousness is but fantastic function of our brains. We live together but we die alone, for every soul that walks this spinning Earth, and savors beauty of fantastic scenes with heart-aching pleasure of feeling love, at least lies down, exhausted from the journey, to sink into mute nothingness of death. Sweet pleasures of this life our brains record, as memories glowing with epiphanies of wisdom flashing warm in dark cold nights, dissolve from conscious functions of our brains as sparkling chemicals, which animate our souls, dissipate from system of sense. Disentangled from this body of flesh, my soul becomes not angel of pure light, nor does it float on wings of rectitude to thread its taut divinity of faith with undulating matrix of salvation to shine unchanging in Realm of Ideas. Each individual who has lived on Earth four hundred million years of evolution through frail organic bodies of desire has both savored pleasure and suffered pain as they meet shadow of death in their fate whether they generate new life or not. The dead cannot return from nothingness for bodies that sustain our dreaming minds are generated by maternal wombs assembling atoms in organic forms so we wake surprised with weird ecstasy then stumble gracefully on road we make. Alone on landscape of fruit trees by lakes, I contemplate existence of my self, confused at vibrant passion of my heart, till I see clearly who I will I am reflected in response of souls I love for we define ourselves in words we speak. Though I long for reunion with the dead, whose memories haunt my heart after they die, I cannot feed this fantasy with hope for energy my aching heart expends exhausts my soul, so I treasure their being with songs that preserve their souls till I die.
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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