Tree Of Leafy Thoughts © Surazeus 2024 04 10 Sad bird that chirps in tree of leafy thoughts, whose restless wings sweep rain clouds to the west, wants to reveal to me my fractured fears so I perceive strange beauty of this world in how routine of hope my hands express sustains my cautious journey to its end. For all the treasures of my aching heart, I give with generous passion to the world, I hear no more than echo of my voice reflect acknowledgement of eager joy encased on gilded box of safe success which Pandora never opens with pride. Though Death, the tallest king who walks the Earth, unstrings my bones to string her golden lyre, I dance among wildflowers with sweet wind who shows me our world without certainty that I am sure is real as stones in streams since I was born from the vast writhing sea. With analytic passion of mushrooms I transform occult dreams of faceless souls from screaming slime of sun-heated tide pools to elegant apple trees on lush hills where horses swish long tails in timeless shade while lovers eat forbidden fruit of truth. With woven baskets on our curious arms we gather eggs of demons from dark glen, mottled ovals lodged in volcanic rocks, then gather inside garden walls of stone to boil them in cauldron of Ceridwen who explains how we breathe spirit of life. Yet when I climb high mountain of delight to take off my face, and offers its name to shocking beauty of this world we love, I cannot find map of the Earth I drew from tangled dreams of people I once loved who must be floating somewhere on the sea. Extreme diagnosis of white moonlight excites reluctant children to play chase who search old bushes for mystery of faith enshrined in chapel by the waterfall where salmon leap toward heaven on frail wings to prove the resurrection is not real. When I was young my blue eyes searched the sky for silver whisper of meaning which frames celestial serpent of my constrained spine because I want to fly above this world so I can understand its totalness while chirping with sad bird in tree of thoughts.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
No comments:
Post a Comment