Build Shadow Homes © Surazeus 2025 07 18 The bee that hides in anguish of my tongue leads me to river of the singing stone where three horses drink lost tears of the world so we put on our hats of ardent hope and dance with passion of the disappeared to build shadow homes on the signless road. The window that reflects my unseen face floats in the air without its framing home awake with words children scribble in dirt so we hold pencils in our crippled hands and write false stories of our broken hearts to build shadow homes among writhing trees. The shadow of my home glows on the grass but I cannot with telescope of faith find that sacred home my grandfather built so I carry its door on my bent back and walk over seven hills to the sea to build shadow homes where rain never falls. The broken lyre that dangles from my hand reverberates with songs no angel sings though this face that looks at me is not me so I carve mask with mocking satire grin that leaves me and becomes its own weird soul to build shadow homes in vast maze of myths. The tangled string of memory I hold forgets the story of my random life encoded in folk songs gods never sing so I watch children play tag in the park far from the battlefields of politics to build shadow homes in the twilight zone. The agitation of the aging fool who still insists he is king of the world crackles secret codes on the radio so I erase news of all tragic deaths from cluttered streets where superheroes roam to build shadow homes on the avenue. The winter sky of fractured puzzle plates depicts the wise sage still roaming the world after six thousand years of selling pears so I collect frail bones of dinosaurs on which our ancestors carved shopping lists to build shadow homes by the bridge of hope. The distance I must walk to find my mask that hangs on museum wall of wise fools keeps stretching rainbows of ambitious angst so I conceal my spirit in blank words that clatter marble-mirrored in your hand to build shadow homes without walls or doors.
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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Friday, July 18, 2025
Build Shadow Homes
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Orpheus builds new home on shore of the River Styx where Ophelia and their children Orion and Ostara live beside the orchard of pear trees where niker-sprites flutter on gossamer wings.
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