Goalless Road Of Hope © Surazeus 2025 06 19 Once I encompass desert of despair, proceeding on the goalless road of hope, I feel unconscious jury of my heart expand beyond blazing width of the sun with accurate attention of One Mind to estimate strange bitterness of pain. Though ignorance is angel of my heart that pilots me along the goalless road past apparitions of our faceless souls that bloom as petals on the wet black bough, I build conceptual church of solitude on burdened landscape of the shadowed moon. Chromatic opposite of my pale brain vibrates with fractured shards of arrogance that spirals out from core of my heart void with rich embellishment of wordless wind through cyclic whiteness of stark assonance as subtle sorrows rippling on the pond. Though I indulge myself with faithful fear, contrived by rich refusals of respect, no proverb can suffice to allocate extensive puzzles scattered on hot sand across the flat horizon of my hope because I hone my heart to edge of time. My body maps the goalless road of fate from birth to death in progress beyond why by plotting course across the restless sea as floating frame of shining molecules, programmed with light to sing the river tune which binds emotional reserve with love. I see myself costumed in robe of fire each time I enter stage of time and play role of dire fate I choose to sacrifice my mortal soul with shrewd sincerity and save the world from horror of desire though I continue to consider why. When torrents of regressive rain disturbs heart-tangled roots of ancient sprawling oaks, they tumble down the rugged hill of faith to crush the howling skulls of vampire gods, exposing privacy of secret thoughts which ravens steal from corpse of my blind soul. Lost in dark maze of asphalt city streets, drenched in relentless drizzle of cold rain, I growl with primal dragon soul of lust to fuel aggressive energy of power so, reborn as Apollo from cracked Earth, I strum the lyre of Mercury and sing.
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, June 19, 2025
Goalless Road Of Hope
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Orpheus visits Emily Dickinson in her flower garden where she serves him tea and crumpets while they chat about despair amid the butterflies.
ReplyDeleteNo Man can compass a Despair
ReplyDelete477
Emily Dickinson
No Man can compass a Despair—
As round a Goalless Road
No faster than a Mile at once
The Traveller proceed—
Unconscious of the Width—
Unconscious that the Sun
Be setting on His progress—
So accurate the One
At estimating Pain—
Whose own—has just begun—
His ignorance—the Angel
That pilot Him along—