My Real Personality © Surazeus 2024 04 20 I like it when the breeze brushes my face with gentle caress of the universe that vibrates with pleasure of molecules beaming with atoms in cells of my soul, as if to tell me with music of light that we are flames of spirit in the void. I create my real personality from tales I find discarded on the ground by beautiful celebrities of fame who grow bored with stereotypes of the past when I carve mask of the many-faced god as pastiche of carpenter and mad king. The horse composed of wind in hills of trees recalls the time the moon burst from the stone so we could change the color of our eyes because we were raised by wolves of the rain who teach us how to sew feathers in wings so we can pretend to fly among clouds. When I kneel on the lonesome river shore I close my eyes to wash my face with tears so everything made real by rays of light may vanish in dark void of inner thoughts which helps me find out who I am again because I keep losing mask of my soul. From deep inside gloomy well of my heart intensive surge of passion to express soul-searing pain from loss of souls I love compels me with psychotic fortitude to stand in vast cathedral of cracked skulls and sing heart-wrenching hymn of honest rage. Loud echoes of my devastating voice reverberate through cold cavernous hall with searing agony enough to stun holy angels that bear blessings of hope so they fall crippled to the solid ground and never fly again among bright clouds. When disembodied eyes of ancient skies hover unblinking in the empty house of green walls seething with sap of fruit trees, I light wax candle of my naked soul to gleam through darkness of eternity each time lost soul on signless road sings softly. I turn around with shy alacrity and with assertive hand of holy faith caress face of the universe with love so she knows without words sweet joy I feel that she exists brief hour of conscious hope to savor strangeness of this world we share.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Saturday, April 20, 2024
My Real Personality
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment