When I Hear Sorrow © Surazeus 2024 04 12 When I hear sorrow in water of life, enhanced by darkness of the lonely road, I see no future in the sunless world where words are shadows lurking behind trees though silence pulses in my aching heart with rancid wisdom of dark rainless clouds. When I hear sorrow in whisper of trees, conceived by primal thought of hopeful love, I rip open my breast with trembling hands and free wild raven of my fearful heart who leaps toward invisible moon of fate to find sacred words that prove how I feel. When I hear sorrow in splatter of rain, designed by fierce starvation of the mind, I scratch at dirt to find conceptual roots enriched with nutrients of arcane code that time transforms from arrogance of death so I can consume sweet fruit of despair. When I hear sorrow in sunrays of dawn, refracted by great eyeball of Blue Sky, I see bottomless abyss of my heart enclose enormous swirl of hungry fear that motivates my quest to find my name trapped under river stone of nonchalance. When I hear sorrow in laughter of fate, contrived by shadow demons of my soul, I emerge from safe shelter of my heart to venture forth on signless road of faith with curious attention to weird details that blossom from organic beings of breath. When I hear sorrow in mockery of clouds, congealed by riddles of the prophet clown, I carry groceries from trunk of my car to stock my kitchen with dystopian tales so we can feast on passion for the truth providing fuel for dance of the sad fool. When I hear sorrow in virtue of seas, elated by compassion for lost souls, I photograph strangers in maze of streets who smile with shy pleasure at being alive, so we gather in cathedral of lies to sing in global choir of solo minds. When I hear sorrow in music of love, composed by voices of ten billion brains, I transcribe verses to record our dreams that shimmer in one tapestry of hope which programs world view every human shares to dwell in heaven of truth we create.
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