Mute Grave Of Time © Surazeus 2023 11 25 After feasting on spaghetti and wine, that tastes like sad souls of innocent folk, I run mad over windy heath in mist to call out names of everyone I killed till they laugh at me as I fall in pool and float forever on tears of their joy. They haunt me on the signless road of faith where I drive wagon of their goods I stole to sell my soul to the king who wears crown he forged from skulls of the people I killed, so I sit in moonlight with chests of coins to count all the wealth I gamble from Death. Though I eat grass and howl hymns of despair at falling of my angels from red clouds, I stand again on two legs of bold hope to proclaim to their ghosts my divine right to rule the real world of riddles and jokes till key of life I clutch crumbles to sand. Because I steal their voices from the wind and crush words of their truth beneath my boots their stories gleaming from ten thousand stars blind my eyes to see dangers on the road so I fall into trap of arrogance that pulls me down into slough of despond. Still clutching golden crown of jewels I stole from head of my father as he fell down, surprised at bold ambition of my pride, I stand alone on jagged rocks of hope as mindless thunderstorm of Jupiter crackles with fierce indifference to my fate. Someday, many centuries after my death, you my read blind confession of my heart and comprehend fierce demon of my lust that urged my fight against stark destiny when hordes of hungry people swarmed my home to devour all I designed with my hands. Repressed obsession with vision of truth that drove my heart to fight cruel tyranny explodes with passion from core of my soul to motivate revolt against their power, forced to defend my land against their greed when I kill them before they can kill me. Constructing temple to honor my god, as spirit of my father in my heart, on unmarked graves of the people I killed, I feast all night on spaghetti and wine while their ghosts dance for me in red moonlight till I too sink into mute grave of time.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Saturday, November 25, 2023
Mute Grave Of Time
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