Aggressive Spire Of Dread © Surazeus 2025 10 27 Unsuited for strange beauty of this world, I bear crippling wounds of indifferent fate as I dance wildly in the ring of stones to translate ache of sorrow into songs that echo in vast maze of lonely souls who call me to rebirth in hall of death. Unhinged assertion of my right to live through elegant clumsiness of firm faith compels judgmental exile of my heart far separate from garden of false peace so all my body hums in tune with death that drones with wordless voices of the world. Though loss plays equal in each human soul, extracted from alarm of silent bells, we work together in alluvial fields against encumbrance of vile attitude that nature owes us bountiful rewards for swift completion of redundant codes. No abstract Heaven gleams in swirling clouds yet I climb rugged mountain trail of faith in search of secret treasures birds conceal with altered wisdom from surprising springs where wingless angels build glass monuments to honor social heroes lost in mist. We build our homes along the winding stream to claim ancestral rights to live in peace beneath safe shelter of broad canopies supported by aggressive spire of dread designed by Well Witch from our mumbled prayers protecting children through despair of death. Impulsive laughter, fragile in green rain, will nurture bodies born from river stones when we share memories of bitter hope that ring with querulous intensity beyond domestic appetite for truth while gathered in the kitchen of warm tales. Discursive haze of urgent platitudes disguises narrow track of arrogance down which we promenade with midnight moon to measure distance to the frontier plain where saplings welcome foals from martyred games at shocking triumph of the noble fool. Languorous under sprawling tree of power, Minerva dreams of sudden-passioned cranes that soar above the swamp of hungry ghosts who wear clean suits in cubicles of hope to calculate profits earned from chaining death for return of investment in true love.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Orpheus finds Minerva lounging on the porch of her home by the river as she lazily photographs cranes in flight above ruins of the world empire.
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