Empty Book Of My Heart © Surazeus 2024 07 17 When I write in empty book of my heart strange convoluted story of our life I will personify myself as the night who likes to walk the signless road of rain so I can become acquainted with light that gleams eternally through ocean waves. Great luminary clock beyond the sky, weaving truth in empty book of my heart, reveals beauty of this world to my eyes so I see essence of its fertile growth radiate from face of every soul I meet who all will vanish from dream of the Earth. Yet something swells from core of spinning time that crumples sea floors into mountain peaks, recorded in empty book of my heart, so I ascend from hydrothermal vent to crawl up winding water stream of hope till I stand tall in grove of apple trees. With laughter of the wind from mountain caves on which I glide with broad Icarian wings I break down walls dividing nation-states through riddles in empty book of my heart when homeless people swirl across the land to find paradise lost in flames of war. Tales I write in empty book of my heart describe how people struggle to survive against aggressive attacks of cruel greed in constant battles to control the land where the poor slave under whip of the rich while God watches all from high pyramid. The old man picking apples from the tree, that grows tall in empty book of my heart, stares at tall ladder pointing at the sky he wants to climb so he can touch the moon, then looks down at the small child at his feet who gazes up at him like he is God. Still searching for Elysian Fields of faith on some far happy island in the sea, long hidden in empty book of my heart, I ask the Glow Cloud, where I think God lives, how I can find the person I love most whose shadow haunts vales where I never am. Roots of the old apple tree by the lake send tender shoots up toward the shining sky so I climb spiral limbs beyond the globe of ghosts mapped in empty book of my heart where I hang fragile high above the world to watch billions of people live and die.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Orpheus gives me empty book of my heart in which I write the epic tale of human life.
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