Peace We Earn By Killing © Surazeus 2023 10 28 Based on potent way pulsing apple curves beyond reluctant gravity of truth I reproduce weird profile of my mind to mirror mask of Apollo Death carves from endless singing riddle of sea froth by which angelic lovers come to bond. When I follow River Styx to find source sordid angels hoard with expectant mouths I find Mother Goddess Terra awake in psychic haze which imitates the farce we still perform in plays based on lost myths trapped in characters of forgotten book. I inhabit wax image of myself in marketplace where ideas are bought from blind angel stuck in mouth of the door who dances in smoke from eye of the calf foolish enough to fall for the bright bait used to lure the dead lost in our nightmare. Red tongues of fire that teach my heart the truth illuminate cave of illusions hid in shadow of the soul-transcending stone so I declare how I am lost in faith robed with moonlit dust blown from mouth of God who gives diamond to Sylvia in gold rain. Because the dead have eyes large as the moon I wait in empty jar of timeless hope to answer telephone which never rings though all I want is to play haunting tune which lingers with nameless ghosts in the ship who beg me to translate ocean-dark songs. The raven in my heart never escapes impediment to marriage of true minds who alter alterations back to why time fools our bodies to imitate maps since twirling compass measures soul of winds which guide our journey on the signless way. Now that I live at last in Spider Wood, far from hope-busy streets of Zathamar, I stop in swirls of snow to count their eyes which draw state of my fragile soul as God since I sing on darkest night of the year while I search for my lover in Dream Maze. When I go gentle into that good night with solemn psalming at slow close of day my words fork lightning in prophetic verse which highlights beauty of this life that fate throws random variables at how we pray since peace we earn by killing is a farce.
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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