Horror Of Unspoken Grief © Surazeus 2025 06 10 Your hard work and your bold sincerity will always be your secret inner strength that guides you through the darkness of your heart to understand strange chanting of the night which forms firm background of your wordless faith that you are who you make yourself to be. What you perceive in mirror of the world, that shadows horror of unspoken grief, fulfills essential nature of that being who lurks in hollow cavern of your heart, and fuels aggressive passion of each day with stark supremacy of ancient truth. So far beyond walls of your solitude you stroll with casual eagerness of fear to search deep down in nothingness of death till silence swells vast as the stormy sky which cracks your world in fragments of despair you clutch with desperate hope of calm belief. Supremely true of nothing you have felt before this sudden crashing of the sky is wisdom rotten from excessive hope you bury in foul grave of your rich heart, expecting resurrection of the cause as fruit tree curling roots into your mind. When you light first light of the silent eve with reason to imagine intense hope you feel strange flush of ultimate respect disturb indifferent honesty of death with power of miraculous contempt that rearranges puzzle of your dreams. Whole knowledge of the way things ought to be contrives strict boundary of your vital heart, obscuring order trapped by noble love at long-sought rendezvous with nonchalance despite sour sweetness of cool evening air electric with unspoken truth concealed. Within straight singularity of being, defining how we think we should perform our special role in drama of despair, persists bright flame of angst authority because we are within heart of our home still glowing warm as summer ecstasy. Our differences bind us in one weird soul since knowledge that we soon will face the end and vanish into nothingness of death exerts essential nature from our core which makes us human through experience of pain that grounds our pleasure in true love.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury while Wallace Stevens plays organ and sings hymn to Apollo in the mossy ruins of the ancient cathedral.
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