Face Of My Tribal Soul © Surazeus 2024 11 17 I wear ancient face of my tribal soul designed by each ancestor who survived hungry monsters haunting indifferent world on difficult quest in landscape of fear to find the secret of eternal life in eyes of my soulmate who understands. Holding hands with innocent trust of love, we stroll winding road of companionship to share tales of our lives before we met as we plan where we would like to go next to fulfill our desires living in peace and raising children we create with love. When gang of men surrounds us with wood wands I crouch in martial stance of fortitude then fight thieves with my brass diamond-tipped wand that splinters their arrogance with calm grace so they flee in panic in shadowed woods, leaving us to continue on our way. Discussing tricks for brewing honey wine, we stop by temple of the weeping god when gang of men return with their old king who commands I give him bride of my heart so he can breed strong children from her womb, and he will let me slave if I submit. When I defy old tyrant to his face, requesting he let people live in peace, he orders archers to shoot, so I twirl wand of wisdom that deflects every arrow, then I break wheels of his grand chariot, causing him to fall face down in the dirt. After I kill his soldiers who attack, I help old trembling king stand on his feet, then ask him why he kidnaps free-born girls, but he invites me to pyramid hall where he gives me crown to rule in his place, so my bride places jeweled ring on my head. Priests rush and try to chain my arms and legs to throne of judgment, but I leap away and strike their heads with magic wand of truth, then trembling king explains how they forced him to issue decrees that increase their wealth, so I kill them, and give him back his crown. Holding hands with trusting bride of my heart, I leave pyramid of power behind so he can continue to rule the world while we raise wise children at our country farm, feasting and dancing each safe evening night while sons of the dead king fight for his crown.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Sunday, November 17, 2024
Face Of My Tribal Soul
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Orpheus visits country farm and plays lyre by the glowing hearth to sing about the civil war between three sons of the old tyrant who has died, so the people long for the wise humble king.
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