When I Find Eternity © Surazeus 2024 11 30 When I find eternity in white stone that glimmers on pebble beach by the lake, I stop walking somewhere else to sit still as the scraggly pine on thin spit of land that curves into strange greenness of water till white glow of the horizon is me. Each ripple of the silver-green lake lurks close enough to faint shadow of my soul that cry of sorrow stuck in my throat wails soft as the hawk floating above flat water to prove my existence is hard as stones that tingle with kiss of indifferent waves. Almost erased to glimmer of sunlight on flat lake stretching far across the sky, I hum sudden vibration in my chest that startles me with fear of something near, yet only trees on pebbled beach reply with silent innocence of my despair. Stones on the pebbled beach melt in my flesh till I become clump of soft clanking stones when I extend sharp beam of energy to stretch my arms and legs with ardency through urgent desperation to reclaim pain searing my body as mine alone. When I find eternity in dead tree that stretches twisted fingers at gray clouds, I hide in shadow of short lonely pine while soldiers in trucks rumble on the road to invade the city of bombed-out ruins where children carry skulls of long-dead gods. Poised with stiff stillness of the patient tree, I spear wriggling fish in flat silver lake, then roast it over flames of honesty to eat with zest in the desolate waste far from haze of bullets blasting soft flesh in war against cruel tyrant of despair. Caressing twisted fingers of bare trees, I recite verses from lost holy books to remember names of people I knew who have since vanished from dream of the world so they will reappear as leaves in spring to tell me how happy they want to be. When eternity finds me on the beach, she will smile and protect my soul from harm, so, many years after soldiers have died and bankers get rich selling broken land, she will find me meditating all day to contemplate the strange greenness of water.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Orpheus ignores the rebels invading the bomb-blasted city of Aleppo to become the zen of fish in strange greenness of water.
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