Why People Have To Die © Surazeus 2023 12 03 Through puzzling lucence of the pulsing Earth, swirled from combustion of gases and souls, nameless shadows of people I admire arrange themselves with meaning in my mind so I accept as facts we must discuss bewildering certainties of love and death. Long hours we wander barefoot by the sea we share confusing prayers for secret truth that only wordless waves would understand, contained in dreams of blind idealists who scatter cultural trash along the beach where optimism festers in tide pools. Hiding abstract rage in cool axioms that tangle human hearts with postulates, I try to fix the engine of the world that clacks with busted gears of principles no longer programmed to guide how we act with respect toward strangers in distant lands. My long unspoken hopes for global peace molder in fractured puddle by the road where children gather in blood-red sunset to place skulls of their parents on dry grass, then ask the trees why people have to die while kings in palaces eat apple pie. Because the mirror swallows my real face with each expression of justice I howl my tendency to prophesy the truth throws my body naked in the cold sea so I learn to swim on wings of desire as I sink deeper in abyss of doom. When I watch the dust mote balance on light with obvious metaphor of raven wings I feel my heart shoot arrow of contempt at careless fool whose actions cause me harm with ill intent to destroy all I build so they can claim my paradise as theirs. Since I repair the foundation of truth with complex principles that state old facts I fall in mute complacency of trust that all my actions cause good to occur to shore my heart against ruins of fear with each rocket that kills thousands of souls. When I portray our world without the fall to prove we ever rise from swirling seas I redesign ontology of faith that fuels my progress to the Promised Land as futile quest to build new paradise where every human lives with equal rights.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Sunday, December 3, 2023
Why People Have To Die
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