Girl With Seven Eyes © Surazeus 2023 10 03 Zoned out on why the girl with seven eyes steals paper masks from museum of ghosts, I lean against rail of the lonely bridge and think about why the sky appears blue as if the holy words of angels burn visions in minds of the silver-eyed lost. Confused about why the alphabet girl, who paints our faces on cathedral walls, never explains the beginning of time, but always points with long finger of truth at the potter molding clay into things, I soar into blue sky on silver wings. I might return from Heaven, if I want, where nothing ever changes or grows old, to place mask of my long-forgotten face on altar where the priest roasts lamb for lunch, so I stare at both typewriter and sword to ponder state of political power. Relieved to find my body in the chair where I left myself to think about love, I laugh while gazing in eyes of the skull without referral to the logogram depicting concept of the divine mind that glows with atoms of the multiverse. Disturbed by how cows freely give their milk to hairless apes who protect them from wolves, I walk backward on my ancestral trail to find where my first mother rose at dawn from lake of dreams to sing hymn of creation that still vibrates ten million years in me. Strange joy I feel when I lounge by the stream and strum the perfect lyre of Mercury glows deep within Tellurian core of being that nurtures world view blooming in my brain so I sing ancient spell of death with passion to savor sweet pleasures my body tastes. Programmed by memories my ancestors lived to perform role of my own character, I play my part in Theater of Love to generate new life before I die when the immortal girl with seven eyes transforms my soul into child of the Earth. Restored to life from words in story books that describe special nature of my soul, I twirl around with agony of faith through acrobatic spring of lithe desire with blithe appreciation for this world that molds my body from light of the sun.
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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