Mask Of The Castaway © Surazeus 2023 09 19 When I fail in my quest to detect beauty I send myself to the sea to find pearls, but like some mad-eyed prophet in fierce wind, or manic bard twanging strings till they break, I tear away mask of the castaway so it becomes my frail boat on wild waves. Austere waves of freezing fortitude hurl my fragile boat against the silver sky with haughty arrogance of laughing fate till I forget conception of my name still concealed by mask of the castaway I carved with bleeding hands from Tree of Life. That stark face of my father on hard trunk that glares at me with disapproving eyes revolves in twisting curve of melting clock entangling memories of my younger self with taut nerves in mask of the castaway which blinds the sun to pulsing of my heart. When old bearded man planting seeds in soil refuses to relate path of his life so I can avoid tragedy of faith that cripples him with arrogant disdain, I shield hope with mask of the castaway that hides my soul with bitter tears of love. Sad wind that weeps in empty cabin room, that serves as tomb for the abandoned wife, records her wordless sorrow in dry grass to crack rock of salvation with contempt, which caresses mask of the castaway, transforming me into wise-cracking jester. Awake with flash of weird epiphany on jagged mountain where red flowers bloom, I hold skull of my father in chapped hands and wonder if Hamlet will laugh again because I wear mask of the castaway that once kissed my cheek with adoring lips. Each time I am born in body of flesh, which my mother makes from soul of my father, I evade awful fate of Oedipus by drinking from spring of the winged horse to study weird mask of the castaway till I understand nature of desire. Cheeks glowing peach with passionate respect, Kwan Yin smiles sweetly at my faceless soul, so I express courageous vow of love to stay attentive to her needs and hopes, free at last from mask of the castaway that she paints with calligraphy of truth.
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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