Slow Swirl Of The Sea © Surazeus 2025 03 08 Now that I live free from slow swirl of the sea darkness folds itself as my eager heart when I walk over hills of joyful death to play role of the hermit in their play on the plain where riderless horses wait for the owl of rebirth to explain why. I will not hurry away from the Earth, dazed with sudden insight of idiocy unrelated to broken wheel of light that tumbles blazing down the mountain slope with shocking honesty of rolling stones that crush wood coffin of the holy ghost. Heart pierced with needle found in the haystack by humble warriors seeking absolution, I write stories of the dead on dry leaves that rustle with their voices in dawn breeze despite how men cry for the broken door that leads to asylum for bitter saints. Yet she walks toward me on the campus path past leafless trees of innocent desire with star-sparkle animating her eyes when she hands me red notebook of her dreams which describe how we meet in every life since we always choose to walk the same road. If I decide to leave the city maze to live among the owls and honest wolves extravagantly alone through light phase, I will invent weird language to describe conceptual framework for our mutual love which binds our hearts together without words. I gesture my hands to weave in new wings wild silence that hovers dark over Earth so I can become swiftness of the horse whose elegant grace of assertive will defines process of motion we express while holding hands to walk the moonlit road. For everywhere I go in time and space Saturnus arranges darkness of truth which congeals despair into juicy fruit through desperation of the mindless wind so I can build new Temple of Dead Gods from false ruins of the Enlightenment. Startled by ache of sorrow birthing joy, I long for existence of fiery breath to gleam in rain drops flowing in my veins with constant blackness of eternity which creates me from slow swirl of the sea because I realize I love you so much.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Orpheus swims in the sea, then follows the river uphill to the house in the meadow where the girl he loves takes care of her wingless horse.
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