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Sunday, August 10, 2025

Weird Map Of Everwick

Weird Map Of Everwick
© Surazeus
2025 08 10

If we return to town of Everwick, 
where horses graze in shady yew-tree groves, 
we may feast by the sparkling sea of time 
to sense how water flows with endless hope 
till flash of insight from the boundless sky 
enlightens heavy hearts with sacred truth. 

I read strange stories of humanity 
while gazing in the river-book of fate 
to dream long record of assertive faith 
performed by spirits of the ancient dead 
who wander lonely streets of Everwick 
to replay tragedies of honest folk. 

With fiery hue of rainbows in their eyes 
ghosts of my ancestors watch me perform 
relentless progress of ascending power 
while I walk endless circles every day 
to chase swift star-eyed fairies of desire 
who scatter dust in streets of Everwick. 

Still nestled safe in bushes of respect 
on misty shore beside the stream of light, 
I draw in dust weird map of Everwick 
where gods play chess with helpless human souls 
who hunt for demons in the yew-tree groves 
while elves sing haunting melodies of hope. 

Mute in yew groves near town of Everwick, 
we hear the spectral singing of the moon 
that highlights beauty of the human face 
which masks demonic energy of lust 
to generate new life before we die, 
therefore we sing with hope to empty skies. 

Crows caw in cheery silence after dawn 
while mushrooms sprout from rotten flesh of hope 
as I dissolve in glow of intense light 
till voices humming with observant fear 
echo softly from streets of Everwick 
which wakes me from the soundless drowning dream. 

I flit between opposing states of mind, 
assertively active with happy hope 
or introspectively passive and sad, 
in rapid ricochet of wretched ruth, 
and thus create fierce fortune of my fate 
with each helplessly random choice I make. 

With bleeding hands of frantic joy for life 
I construct stone towers of Everwick 
where I guard heaven of its garden homes 
one thousand years of restless loyalty 
where ghost of my obsession to survive 
remains in breeze that rustles yew-tree leaves. 



1 comment:

  1. Orpheus strolls the busy streets of York to find the lost-long groves of yew trees where he once played heart-haunting ballads for the Fairy Queen at the moon-lit feast on midsummer nights.

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