Cold Indifferent Moon © Surazeus 2025 07 10 Ghosts of the dead float glowing in the sky, dangling from long electric wires of faith, eyes gleaming bright as billion-year-old stars that make our aching hearts torn by despair feel as if the universe cares for us, so we pray to the cold indifferent moon. The moon knows nothing of our suffering, yet we pray up to her with fervent faith for calming comfort of her gleaming rays that pierce our heart with silence of contempt so we throw stones that transform into stars which glitter in the window of our home. Kate walks along the dirt road at sunset to find Dave lingering by the chain-link gate, bolted shut against his helpless urgency, that leads to large deserted factory where he worked twenty years after high school till the owner fled with the cash to Russia. The silver moon gleams bright rays on his face, gaunt cheeks unshaven under brittle skin, and eyes that search for faith in the dim gloom with frantic shifting of the victimized, so Kate reaches out warm hand of concern though Dave babbles with lunatic despair. The moon is nothing more than clump of rocks that floats around the Earth in airless void, but Dave cries out to her with anguished hope that she will understand his suffering and thus manipulate the gears of time to shift our world on track for liberty. Since no voice booming from the starry sky confirms request to grant his soul success, Dave aims large pistol at his pulsing skull to drive the howling demons from his brain, but Kate grabs his wrist and stares in his eyes as if to activate his will to life. Lone truck with gleaming headlights crunches past to whisk the heretic of blinding faith to large detention center in the desert where he is chained and forced to kneel and bow, but he conjures from rotten brains of rage attentive mission to restore our faith. Faith in the cold indifference of fate swells fiercely bold in aching heart of hope, so, holding hands with Kate in loyal pride, he strides determined to open new shop where he repairs engines of cars he built but someone torches his garage with hate.
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, July 10, 2025
Cold Indifferent Moon
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Orpheus lounges in the lobby, reading War and Peace, while Dave works on fixing the engine of his Mazda and Kate paints history mural on the wall.
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