Taut Harp Of Hope © Surazeus 2024 06 20 How you might see, with dream-expanding eyes, forsaken ghost of mind complexity contained by silver light, or never know strange flashing scenes of sorrows undisclosed by mute death, yet step forth to claim with pride contentious passion through soul liberty. I think of ancient tales, unwritten code concealed by letters mothers never write to children searching for the weeping tree of timeless love, which the motionless sun embraces close with breathless energy of faith, to understand why we must die. Not quite obscure as Heaven I create from fairy tales, through eggs hidden in grass that nurture serpents with prophetic pledge of altered truth, my simple home preserves prayerless memories of slow afternoons while children chase their nameless ghosts of fear. Taut harp of hope, that supports river bridge of bold ambition, unpardoned by greed bestowed by laughter on our unbowed heads, aligns our spirits flush along choir strings connecting countless minds in city maze with soft electric flow, if we should cry. Awake in shadow, parceled by glass doors condensing fraught eternity with words invented by sad birds, my heart descends on curveless myth of tense divinity, undone by laughter children sell for faith, so we can hold hands with calm quietude. Unsettled anxiousness of placid trust confounds serene complacency we share for irksome interchange, bound cheerfulness confining sorrow mute in virtuous gloom, yet grim elation blesses hours we wait for shards of comfort to fall from the sky. Fragile contentment, cementing our hearts with tranquil shock of disadvantaged hope for evasive peace, blames my hungry bliss unsatisfied by failed attempts to fly home, since honesty wounds our naked hearts with bitterness concealed in ancient rocks. Each unspent motion, pacing us from home through explicit speech of our caravan, conserves faint progress, slowly sinking deep in wordless water of forgetful dream, because we share desire to savor life that slips away just as we understand.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Thursday, June 20, 2024
Taut Harp Of Hope
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Orpheus walks across endless Bridge of Forgetfulness to find you.
ReplyDelete