Weird Miracle Of Why © Surazeus 2024 03 20 Thirsty to taste sweet orange peel of the sky, I examine broken things of the world so I can breathe weird miracle of why that winds my heart with wings of atoms curled more taut than galaxies of dreaming brains because I lose myself in mindless rains. Obtaining memories from wild honeybees that modify how time designs my name, I wander woods of strange identities to swindle wisdom with the curious game I play through calm perplexity of faith that leads my way to sea of the blind wraith. Halfway between the mountain and the sea, lost in religious haze of singing birds, I illustrate how angels live so free through allegory of unpuzzled words that shape ground of this Earth on which I dwell as faceless ghost who haunts Rune-springing well. Intensely anxious that sly Death still knows each secret name my brain tries to invent in vain attempts to escape fate of snows, I decide to campaign for president since we have decided to behead kings who tremble in rage when Queen Ishtar sings. I love every human who lives on Earth whether any of them love me or not, because I value each soul with great worth since we are creatures that sunlight has wrought through process of evolution to dream awake in our minds by the flowing stream. Bright stars of childhood still gleam in our eyes which inspires our bodies to grow in play, though pain of failing organs twists the prize of joy we claim as we start to decay, because ambiguous stories of the dead intone manic melodies in my head. Each serpent slithering in meadow of fear guides me to emotional swing of hope that flings me to the silver moon so near I almost understand how I might cope with stringent passion of daily desire to transcend my role in the global choir. When life-affirming sap of Mother Earth shoots upward through my body into wings, I reach my spirit high toward soul rebirth to dance in mountain grove where Ishtar sings, for with clear temporary glow of life she fills my heart with joy as loving wife.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Wednesday, March 20, 2024
Weird Miracle Of Why
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