Ghost Of The Faceless God © Surazeus 2025 06 15 Shadows of my sorrow chase me in spring through trees that beam light down into my eyes, so weird joy I experience with shy fear blooms from daffodils of yellow concern when I breathe words of cold indifferent wind till my chest rises mountain meadow strong. With breath of clouds that swirl inside my chest I speak the real essential names of things to understand tense magnet of my heart that spirals tongue of thoughts with agency from buzzing honeycombs of innocence that resemble sections of memory. Stored in compartments of contrived events, my memories present moral proverbs which I categorize through fairy tales as study guide my frantic heart consults when faced with dangerous situations so I know how to evade strike of death. Enclosed in sectored brackets of my brain, strange memories of traumatic events, I guess must be what my ancestors lived, flash vividly clear in visions of hope, depicting actions they performed in fear which I apply to how I play my role. Abject with passion to transcend blind fear, I growl with fierce exertion of respect to stand upright on swiftly spinning Earth when I assert authority to speak, though my personness may evaporate at flash of lightning that luminates faith. This complete person of passion I am emerges from four hundred million years of evolution from lizard to human while I strive to overcome suffering from punishment inflicted by cruel greed till I become ghost of the faceless god. Inhaling spirit of the mirror sky, I submerge my body of aching flesh in sparkling waters of the silver lake to swim across abyss of nothingness in sky reflected on surface of time to hear soft echo of my wordless voice. Dripping sparkles of eternal starlight, I rise from lake of dreams at dawn of time and balance upright body with light beams to avoid falling against the hard world so I observe vast landscape of my dream and spread my arms to pretend I have wings.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Translate
Sunday, June 15, 2025
Ghost Of The Faceless God
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Orpheus explores the mountain meadow, swims in the lake, climbs the tree to pluck apples which he eats, then sings about it all as he sits on the stone of words.
ReplyDelete