Stone In The Grass © Surazeus 2024 05 24 The light that radiates concept of the mind knows truths about the soul it never tells, so when I look at the stone in the grass it looks back at me with eyes of dead stars, yet I see the mountain it wants to be as it sees the god I will never be. We tell each other what the light should say then stare into the space of everywhere, so I listen to the stone in the grass but it tells me nothing I want to know, yet I invent my name to signify I am not the god I would want to be. I modify strange nature of the light by reshaping material of the tree so strange laughter of the stone in the grass records story of the tree I cut down, yet I build the house that shelters our souls from spirit of the tree that is not god. The light that screams in fracture of the mind knows truths about the world it wants to tell, so I stand mute with the stone in the grass that tries to see the real me I still hide, yet cows in the meadow of playful wind gossip about people who would play god. The light that reflects the face of ungod designs the face I wear till I am born, so I will carve on the stone in the grass the face I will wear long after I die, yet when you see mask of my changing face you say I am one aspect of our god. We give each other light with grateful hands after we almost die in war of books, so I will become the stone in the grass that David slings to bring down tyranny, yet we remain ghosts in our bombed-out homes, singing prayers to god who was never real. If we become the light that never tells we might begin to understand true love, so I feel seen by the stone in the grass who is my soul mate I will always love, yet she brings water from the wishing well when she perceives the god that I could be. We stand together in hope of the sky where we feel what the light wants to reveal, so we carve names on the stone in the grass which remains long after everyone dies, yet my descendants sing my secret name and worship me as god I never was.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Orpheus tries to translate secrets the light refuses to tell about the stone in the grass.
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