All I Build Vanishes © Surazeus 2024 11 28 Not satisfied with how the world will end, consumed by the quickly expanding sun which will erase everything we create, I create more art with my anxious hands to build vast thousand-mile temple of tales, transforming deserts into gardenscapes. Transforming Earth from natural flowing hills into steel-skeletoned metropolis encasing the entire globe in maze of streets, we fragile humans, seeking to assert God-given right to rule this spinning globe, construct Trantor to protect paradise. Though we erect enormous halls of beauty filled with elegant statues carved of marble to glorify every great human soul who contributes to world civilization, the expanding sun will erase it all, incinerating all our art to ash. All our cathedrals, mosques, temples, and halls, designed with extravagant ornaments expressing passionate love of our hearts that lifts our spirits from this suffering world, will be crushed by waves of hot energy like castles of sand the tides sweep away. For now the vast cities humans construct are frail webs of steel over rolling hills, small and few between endless desertscapes, so I walk muddy field after drenching rain to blaze new signless road across the plain, and stop to see my face in pool of light. I cannot see the path of my own life for all its winding randomness remains behind me as I keep walking forward to evade flowing void of nothingness ever encroaching on my paradise till all I build vanishes in the past. Ten thousand years ago of spinning time we gathered in mall circles on vast plains to dance wild around blazing light of hope, and share tales of our experiences to build ontology of natural truth our prophets wrote in scriptures of our faith. Alone in homes of our vast city maze we deconstruct ontology they built to analyze conceptual dream programs so we can construct new global world view to sing beautiful hymns in halls of truth till our expanding sun destroys it all.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Thursday, November 28, 2024
All I Build Vanishes
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Orpheus sings words to that construct vast virtual model of the Earth containing every myth and story every told by every human in history, till all we build vanishes in airy nothing.
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