Sing Tale Of Your Life © Surazeus 2024 09 18 Whatever we see in sparkles of rain refracting joys and sorrows we endure deceives our hearts with beautiful concepts presenting ideals based on things we see, so we find in random experience timeless truths about nature of this life. The yellow-crowned heron on river shore pierces our hearts with her star-golden eyes, so we seek answers to riddles we read written with demon blood on autumn leaves that fall in elegant spirals of hope to shroud the graves that will swallow our souls. After I hear many people express opinions that explicate their world views which present irreconcilable truths, I walk away from crowds of argument to see weird truth that cannot be denied sparkle as sunlight on the river flow. High walls of paradise our fathers built with hands bleeding tears for those killed in war could be haven protecting us from harm by gangs of rapists, slave-traders, and thieves, or prison that traps us with rigid laws enforced by tyrant and his gang of thugs. While walking in wild grove of apple trees you stop and turn around to look at me so you can tell me feelings of your heart, but you cannot find right words adequate to shape your vision in programming code true as roots that curl down deep in the Earth. They think they know the truth about our hearts because they only see how we perform our chosen roles in dramas of our states where every person plays their special part in the global food-production machine that benefits those with weapons of death. After getting lost in world maze of myth while searching for the Holy Grail of love, I map the tales we humans tell ourselves to conjure virtual model of the Earth in holy scripture of religious faith that preaches joy in this life here and now. Our individual souls of conscious dream are ephemeral as sparkling drops of rain since our awareness of our mortal selves is chemical function of fragile brains, so I give you apple from Tree of Life and sing tale of your life after you die.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Orpheus records tales of our lives after we die in Earth Chronicle of Lost Souls that was burned in the Library of Alexandria.
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