Racing To Flee Death © Surazeus 2023 11 04 Though bards cannot bend Nature to their will, nor any longer prophesy events that ripple from cause of the curse-bound stone hurled by taut sling-shot of effective verse, we stand on street corners of hope and sing heart-aching elegies for nameless ghosts. Though I now stand on high Cliff of Despair I will not leap from heady mountain height to plunge in roaring tide of endless night, for urgent passion to translate star song in cluttered puzzle of dream-riddled spells inspires my heart to rise from flames of war. Bound to the past by spells of long-dead bards, I carve from skull of the jester new mask presenting pure persona I perform to join great fellowship of the Dream Ring since fame is bought from fate by sacrifice which erases my name from history. I cannot sublimate with wordless death compassionate drive to transcend my idol as spectator at my own funeral where no one laments silencing of song that rings in harmony with engine buzz of cars and airplanes racing to flee death. The wild-eyed prophet lost in the waste land leads countless bards from grand amusement park of mortal fear to find the Promised Land of immortal fame as the Greatest Bard, but leads them lost in dead-end labyrinth where they scratch at sterile soil with numb hands. Instead of noble warriors or love-wise kings who organize nations of working craftsmen with vision of productive management, blind bards of sterile ideologies sing about mute ghost they see in the pool to celebrate their fake identity. No bard will ever gain more than they lose when they gamble with Death for endless fame for they will shine their brightest in dark gloom with rage against reality of death that erases all our songs from world dream, so we must sing with joy until we die. Dropping lyre of Mercury in snow, I hold sweet Hyacinth Girl in my arms as we ride sled down mountain slope of love with wicked freedom of two love-bound fools who join our hearts on signless road of trust to generate new life until we die.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Saturday, November 4, 2023
Racing To Flee Death
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment