Broken Moon Of Fate © Surazeus 2025 03 13 Through tributaries of the dream-time loop I search for treasures of bountiful worlds receding far down stream of timeless change where sunrays of possibilities gleam in tangled matrix of confusing facts which I respool along reasonable tracks. Sitting in sturdy boat of steam-bent planks, I paddle along shimmering stream of hope toward small orange sun low in gray misty sky that sparks strange memory of timeless desire for scent of firesmoke among rustling trees that rises from crackling flames of regret. When I see Sylphus lope around the hill with yew bow and leather bag of long arrows I call his name and offer bowl of stew so he gives me three apples and mushrooms, then eats stew of venison spiced with herbs from wood bowl I carved with sharp jagged stone. Gazing up at the broken moon of fate that shimmers gold behind clouds of desire, I ask Sylphus what he thinks the stars are, so he explains that Pythagoras taught stars are fountains of animating souls that beam down to give bodies conscious life. Just as we drift into shadows of sleep, curled in fur cloaks beside the crackling fire, Sylphus jumps to his feet and grabs his bow, but the growling bear man with twisted club hits his head hard, causing him to collapse, stunned unconscious though I shake him and cry. Pushing me down flat stretched out on my back, the bear man laughs while gripping my wrists tight that, though I rejected his marriage pact, he will force me to bear child of his seed, then tries to kiss me as I turn my face and grunts to force his way inside my heart. When he lets go one wrist to push my legs open wide with cruel lascivious sneer, I snatch bone-handle blade of sharpened bronze from leather sheath on his belt with intent to thrust sharp dagger straight into his chest, so he screams in pain as blood gushes out. After stabbing his heart with frantic thrusts, I kneel beside Sylphus and call his name, then gasp with joy when he opens his eyes, but he jumps up and backs away from me, shocked to see I am covered with blood, and runs away as I cry in the dark.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
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Thursday, March 13, 2025
Broken Moon Of Fate
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Orpheus finds the river nymph weeping by the corpse of the man she killed, so he helps her bury him and brings her water to clean her face.
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