Sing To The Faceless Dead © Surazeus 2024 01 23 Ultimate silence of the divine mind beyond estimation of fickle fame reveals lightning flash of the conscious brain which dances awake in galactic flame whose kiss electrocutes our souls to life which inspires our quest for reality. When I measure whole fabric of the world composed of active causes and effects, I penetrate hidden reality with wings of words on which I transcend death to flow with currents of electric thoughts that swirl vast ocean of conceptual truths. The dead teach my heart how to sing my dreams with tangible effort through aching hope to nothing but imaginary nameless souls beyond material realm of temporal faith with free expression of absurdity so I can see my face in timeless pool. Banished from Republic of honest men, I dwell in cave of illusions that glow from core of molecules composing forms of objects in the world outside my mind which I perceive with clear subjective eyes, and sing to the dead who no longer hear. As stewards of this planet lost in space, we follow roads our ancestors once blazed to cross bleak waste land of our hungry hope and build new paradise of Wonderland where every soul, regardless of its state, lives in harmony through freedom of speech. As teeming hordes of refugees from wars, we build new empire in the Promised Land based on the premise of our right to live on land that swallows bones of our ancestors till our lives are flushed away by cold death and our songs are but whispers in the wind. Who dies last on this land we claim is ours carries seeds of descendants in their mouths who wake from erased memories of our fear to find new truth on silent river shore where they too will sing to the faceless dead for we are alive in children we bear. These words I sing in verses of lost hope refer to nothing but their own ideas so I describe reality I dream with weird conceptual spells of twisted truth that form Icarian wings of formal faith when I sing as I fall into the sea.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Tuesday, January 23, 2024
Sing To The Faceless Dead
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