House Of The Lost © Surazeus 2025 04 09 Searching empty houses on road of time, that leads me deep in crowded city maze, I pause at sudden mystery of soft chime that makes me wonder why this wordless daze leaves me stranded on Bridge of Charity without the faintest sense of clarity. Though I have searched ten thousand empty homes for faceless father who designed my soul, I find nothing more than cute garden gnomes who tell confusing jokes to fool the troll who scribbles stories on the bleeding page while locked in structured safety of the cage. My mother told me just before she died the name he told her in the apple grove after they made love, till they had to hide from her mad father with the treasure trove, because to save his life he ran away so she often wept as she watched me play. My tragic story never breaks your hearts when I lament my state as orphan child while we load baskets of apples in carts, so I smile and play the clown, meek and mild, to hide the bitter anger of my wound which winds my heart till I am too attuned. My heart ticks twisted with these maudlin tears when I lounge placidly in garden fane with Spirit Fox and fountain of lost years while flowers bloom with suffocating pain, so I gaze forlornly at golden haze that shrouds my world with faith in the next phase. Behind soft pretty mask of my calm face I conceal seething passion of desire to weave my anguish in this peaceful place till terror seeps away with hope less dire than pulsing wisdom of my vanity that molds the sublime from profanity. Though I sing charming hymn of holy awe with soul-enchanting voice of divine truth I vow to punish abusers with law designed for Justice by messiah sleuth who mocks tormentors for wounding my heart by tracing way of fortune on my chart. Abandoned by my father before birth, I struggle against harsh odds to survive, then counterbalance tragedy of worth with even fortune my choices contrive by building haven from house of the lost because my father is my inner ghost.
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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Tuesday, April 29, 2025
House Of The Lost
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Orpheus finds Ophelia smiling calmly as she lounges with her Spirit Fox by the fountain of lost years and gives her strawberries to eat.
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