Weird Religious Cult © Surazeus 2024 03 24 The traveler who maps the signless road across the wilderness of windy hope lifts up their eyes to know the world is wide with beauty of the ideal scene through hype because they know no land is theirs to claim, even if they label it with their name. We are but fragile flame of spirit breath that sprouts from soil and eats conceptual bread, then disappears in restless winds of faith more sweet than tangy taste of marmalade that leaves us lost in confusion of right, mind blinded by strange darkness of the light. Full golden moon that gleams in web of limbs to sharpen focus of fear-drunken wits reveals strange face in solitary pool who offers frantic puzzle of the book with shocking obfuscation we deny despite our desperate need to invent why. Throughout confusing drama of my life I only meet strange spirits out of time who try to control my body and mind, but I find in my heart pure flame of love that guides me through vast city maze of doom while I type visions in my empty room. Engaged in rites of weird religious cult where prophets compete to ride the wild colt, I paint letters of psalms on temple walls describing demons who crawl from deep wells with sacred spells on scrolls of secret names that appoint who plays political games. Behind each moment of my waking hours memories of my ancestors cased in spores sprout into visions glowing in my brain that program how I perceive each new scene in which I replay actions of their fates to swerve aside and open different gates. My ghost appears before me in the door when I head out to drive gas engine car in search for Holy Grail in maze of myths in vain attempt to navigate lost paths which I decide to map when I get lost so the yet-born may know what truth must cost. The traveler who gives free books to the town explains contrary puzzle of the known so anyone who wants to earn world fame can prophesy how humans evade doom, yet in the morning we all go to work, assisting program of the Cosmic Clerk.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Sunday, March 24, 2024
Weird Religious Cult
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