Pretending I Can Fly © Surazeus 2024 10 03 At night I dream my tan-white skin is rough as old wind-weathered hills of the Palouse where Pinto horses graze on memories when I roamed freely on dark river shore where I sit and watch spotted brook trout swim along pulsing veins that lead to my heart. I cannot read my children fairy tales without explaining laws of physics first so they know if they dress as Tinkerbell they cannot fly around the heads of elves nor cast enchanting spells of joyful love to make the suicidal want to live. Concerned about how weird future events unravel fabric of our shared world view, I study swirls of clouds above gold hills to measure how greedy humans will act based on clear aeromantic principles so I can write prophecies in the sky. Plain-speaking honesty of the blank sky lures me to fly with wings of Icarus above vast maze of cities on the Earth to see how gods of nations represent their spirit in the person they elect to rule religious rites of daily life. While lounging under ancient Tree of Life, watching its roots throb with ichor of being, I ponder what Camus says about Death whose mute finality of nothingness inspires my heart to savor this life now here in stark beauty of this radiant world. Since we must love one another and die, I will give you ripe apple that I stole from Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil which wakes strange visions in our dream membrane about horror of war which drives insane children who survive each new genocide. When Li Po fishes for the Water Moon, cranes call to him with soft voice of friendship, so he swims down into the silver sky to bid farewell to everyone he knows who gasp surprised to see that he can fly yet leaves his last song as footprints in snow. While exploring vast land of in-between, with mission to count every drop of rain which all transform to fruit trees in lush fields, I discover my soul is formed from clay so I stick feathers of hawks in my arms and run around pretending I can fly.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Orpheus explains to his son Linus that he cannot fly, but he can sing about the tragedy of Icarus.
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