Our Inner God Soul © Surazeus 2025 06 07 Dim light of evening after thunderstorm glows on white page of the blank journal book that mirrors visions of my dreaming brain as I trace contours of my mind landscape to map the virtual world my dreams design based on memories my ancestors lived. I hear their voices whisper in the wind that wanders in broad river vales of hope to find conceptual Wonderland of Faith that exists only in old story books where ghosts of my ancestors replay roles of their failure and success in this world. Each individual conscious human soul, whose genes weave neural network of my brain, struggled against obstacles of despair, overcoming confusion long enough to meet their soul mate on rough road of life and generate new life before they die. I describe in plain terms our quest to live each day we wake in light of energy that powers our hearts with passion to live evading death with laughter in our songs fueled by pleasure of selfless love we share in tales that teach our children how to thrive. We code success in joy of comedy and failure in horror of tragedy to formulate flow of cause and effect defining consequence of acts performed which form foundation of morality preserved in religious myths of our gods. Our gods we worship with reverent awe embody actions that create the good, presenting ideal personality that we should emulate in how we live to transcend animal nature we portray as we cultivate our inner god soul. Though gold sunlight fades behind rain-wet trees I see eternal beauty of this Earth gleam through essence of organic beings who all evolve from one First Mother Soul whose timeless song of love glows in each cell that preserves immortal soul of our genes. Immortal energy of atoms glows in raindrops hanging from leaves of lush trees, so I open my mouth with thirst for truth to taste divine soul of our universe, then sing ache of my temporary mind in these spells you sing long after I die.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Orpheus sits at the window of his powerless house and ponders the meaning life after a tree, blown over in a thunderstorm, knocks down a powerline.
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