Windy Heath Of Faith © Surazeus 2024 01 01 When Cordelia finds me on windy heath shouting at stones about blindness of love, she convinces me I have become myth, so I map all the strange lands where I rove with intention to prove I am still sane though I dance singing in cold winter rain. If I divide land of my aching heart between the children of my holy blood, they will tear my glorious empire apart that would leave crown of power lost in mud, yet I must choose the soul who understands old secret language of the mountain winds. Cordelia gives me cup of juice to drink so I lounge with Socrates by the pool, discussing with calm reason ways to think about how to enforce the Golden Rule, while she transcribes the arcane songs of sparrows who recount tales of seers buried in barrows. I almost think I can fly off the cliff if I run fast enough to edge of time, but Cordelia stops me with wizard staff, so I imitate the arrogant mime with frantic jest to mock the haughty king who keeps trying to steal my magic ring. Running naked in maze of Samarkand, where I eat grass and claim all souls are one, I calm the frantic horse with gentle hand so she will take me to Hall of the Sun where my three daughters calculate my fate as son of the king tasked to guard the gate. I cannot see clear relevance of spells I chant before the gates of Nineveh till Anahita shows me water wells hidden in the corn fields of Onatah who commissions me to liberate ghosts from confessional verse of narcissists. Disappointed I doubt her loyalty, Cordelia lingers by star pool in woods where Narcissus explains how royalty are thieves who fool us to think they are gods, so she finds me on windy heath of faith where I sing love songs to the eyeless wraith. Guiding me away from Castle of Greed, Cordelia leads me to the humble farm where she teaches me to grow food I need, but I cling desperately to the gold charm her mother forged from hot flames of Mount Doom to hide the Holy Grail in fertile womb.
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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