Runes On Bones Of God © Surazeus 2025 06 20 When my heart aches with the sorrow of loss, remembering souls of people killed by bombs, I carve their names with runes on bones of God to preserve spirit of courage and hope though their conscious minds dissipate in wind so their voices sing when I play the flute. Recording variants of the human soul with measured templates of precise details, I draw beauty with runes on bones of God, trimmed by the flawless angst of earnest hope with twirling blocks that should align all time with savage moment of our holy kiss. Forgetting sorrows that drip from wet leaves as bitter rain long tangled in sly knots, I smear passion with runes on bones of God to raze enormous castles of blind greed that levels playing field for social game when merchants sell wishes to haughty fools. Because the future still changes the past despite intensive force of happiness, I weave stories with runes on bones of God that highlight guilt of the vulnerable heart who plays charade of romance for the crowd when angels execute the lonely queen. With blessed assurance of the endless game adjusting harmony of urgent speed, I recalculate runes on bones of God past far horizon of the happy horse who shows me where our words in silence drown at startled recognition of the clown. Soft petals of mulberry violets sprout from stone idol of the Buddha skull each time I scribble runes on bones of God no matter how long devils meditate in vain attempt to transcend human needs for us betrayed by weakness of the flesh. When fierce Athena gazes down at me with eyes that flash bright lightning bolts of love, I kiss her lips with runes on bones of God to show how deeply I adore her soul through signs that indicate alternatives to sharp equation of her wedding dress. When she wears mask of luminous concern to face unfiltered light of cosmic truth, I map the trail with runes on bones of God where she wears sacred artifact of faith as white lace dress iconic from her art to show me wisdom at the cliff of time.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Orpheus eats apple pie baked by Emily Dickinson who shyly plucks strings on the lyre of Mercury and asks if he will teach her how to play and sing spells of truth.
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