Strange September Sea © Surazeus 2025 03 09 My mother drives the red Volkswagen slow narrow road that winds around silent hills among tall birch trees gleaming white as snow on Sunday afternoon in early Autumn to go somewhere we never went before so we can walk around the anxious lake. Disconnected scenes of fragmented thoughts, boxed in broken sentences of regret, clutter unlit stage after the last show, tattered costumes of undead characters, and masks that represent feelings we hide, heaped in shadow of unspoken despair. So I run down to strange September Sea and wander mute on the heavenly shore while searching for the lush Elysian fields where ghosts of people I once knew may float as silver mist along the gushing stream where I decide to build the Golden Bridge. Awake in raptured vision of this world, I pluck taut strings on lyre of Mercury to sing praise for Warder of Paradise who guards the border to the Promised Land with flaming sword of arrogant disdain for anyone not born with the right glamor. Kneeling before grave of the blonde-haired girl whose sky-blue eyes entranced my heart with love, I weep with sorrow at her early death because the redemption story is false, for after we crumble to Earth in death we never rise to glory in the sky. Yet varied marvels of Nature express artless grandeur of atoms shaping forms that stream with beauty of eternal light still flaring forth from the first flash of love to shine as creatures with bright conscious minds from raptured thoughts of bountiful desire. Even in sequential dreams of free will, when we glow brightly with passion of love, we will find original spark of hope that revives compassion of selfless faith to beam with empathy for living souls which springs from emptiness of Hungry Self. Always capable of love for everyone, we drive cars on newly signified roads to participate in fun social games where strangers give each other secret names, then eat mushrooms and worship the God Toad whose timeless love song vibrates from the sun.
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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Sunday, March 9, 2025
Strange September Sea
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Orpheus visits the grave of his childhood friend Lori Lee Whetmore, placing the yellow daffodil of carefree joy as he remembers how her eyes sparkled when she laughed.
ReplyDeleteOrpheus visits the grave of his childhood friend Lori Lee Whetmore, placing the yellow daffodil of carefree joy as he remembers how her eyes sparkled when she laughed.
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