Riddle Of Old Fire © Surazeus 2023 11 15 Alone in garden of sweet pungent fruit, I do not feel one with the world eyeball for I know only what my brain perceives, this cluttered world of changing forms that bloom whole within scope of my attentive faith, when I resolve weird riddle of old fire. When I breathe forth pure flame of hungry faith that lifts me far beyond grim reach of time, I speak the first word spoken by First Mother to remember rippling waves of the sea that cleanse my heart of illusions I dream after I hear soft riddle of old fire. After I realize I was born from flame, and will become bright flame of time again, I speak the lonely yet unspoken name dark mother of the sea whispers to me when she teaches me how to sing my dream encoded in strange riddle of old fire. With deep intensity of gasping breath I walk the rolling landscape of the world so my feet blaze the first road beyond time because I touch cold charity of Earth to stand on pinnacle of swirling clouds that fall as rain from riddle of old fire. Emerging from shadow of mountain mind to rise on flashing wings of thunderstorms, I leave bleak darkness of despair behind to climb high craggy ridge of blazing light where I can see round island of the world embody hope through riddle of old fire. Each morning I awake from dream of waves my eyes perceive the same mountain of trees that shimmer red with apples of the sun, so I dwell safe in memory of my world that blossoms into forms my brain designs based on conceptual riddle of old fire. So once again I climb shadow of time to scale each world of objects I perceive with faith that light will always gleam again through formless gloom of the terrible void that shakes at cracking laughter of the sky designed by sudden riddle of old fire. Alone on planet spinning in the void, one of billions in our huge galaxy, I see my body multiply and grow from First Mother into billions of souls who see my face in every living face generated by riddle of old fire.
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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