Demon Wings Of Hope © Surazeus 2025 08 23 Stark silence of the canyon-hearted soul expands beyond walls of the spinning globe where children of the ocean crawl on rocks to reach for stars that bloom as golden fruit which sparks their hearts with visions of world peace, yet fight over whose version is the best. Blank door of my soul opens in the sky so I soar down on demon wings of hope to scatter apple seeds on parking lots so trees consume towers of steel and glass, providing shelter for birds of the mind that laugh at how I weep for liberty. Strange sunset glow of timeless urgency gleams deeply sad on endless winding road that leads our quest round grim Ohio hills on hopeful journey to the Promised Land that always shimmers with inviting dreams just beyond dim horizon of tomorrow. Young woman wearing black mask of the crow stares longingly at sky of empty words while silver rain slithers down her long hair since words do not always agree with deeds without context of calm perplexity till I return from sailing the world sea. Except for how time redesigns my face, I never change essential state of being that radiates from cracked clay bowl of my heart through fraught reverberations of blind gods who ride the wagon train on signless road that winds along the river of black blood. Awake on bridge of frantic energy, I am concerned how rocks on lonely roads chat about artificial intelligence since I am working on a much higher level that anyone else in the crowded world as top critical thinker of all time. At the hour of our birth each human being is assigned our name, religion, and race, then spend the rest of our preprogrammed life defending that fictional identity that remains as mask of our private tale hanging on museum wall of lost souls. In our unseasonable reprieve from fate after climbing sunless mountains of fear we remove our fur coats with aching sighs to dance among the apple trees of faith after our civilizations collapse, then tell each other stories as we die.
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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Saturday, August 23, 2025
Demon Wings Of Hope
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Orpheus sells demon wings of hope from his roadside stand at the weekly farmers market in the quaint college town where people from all over the world wander lost.
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