Hollow Heart Of Liberty © Surazeus 2025 10 20 If dry stones in the waste land sing to me with voice of angels in the wordless heat, I shelter hollow heart of liberty among the heap of broken images where branches twist from roots of silent grief in angry trees that never blossom fruit. Strange shadow of my soul under red rock considers something different from our truth based on stark fear in the handful of dust that swirls in fresh wind of the verdant isle where hyacinths bloom from grave of the girl whose wet hair shimmers in my morning dream. Though I could not speak of my aching love, nor could my eyes see visage of her soul, I gaze into the silent heart of light to hear weird song of ocean waves call me with eerie voice of wordless ecstasy while I float mute in nothingness of time. No clairvoyant with pack of tarot cards, posing as graceful Lady of the Rocks, attempts to read the fortune of my stars then prophesy my hanging from the tree when Fame discovers my safe hiding place and drags to the public square of faith. My secret horoscope in Book of Jokes, programmed in riddling code of urgency, lures me to walk Bridge of Forgetfulness where faceless people, long undone by death, still follow guiding star of rainbow wealth that leads them to the wrecked ship on the shore. Now no one sits on burnished throne of sight that shimmers on high ziggurat of power before fraught table of the sacrifice where the Holy Grail topples on its side and spills blood of salvation from the book at stalemate end of our chess game with Death. Paused on the busy street in cool twilight before the bookstore glowing gold with hope, I wonder why in sixty years of life I have never heard the nightingale sing, so I place diamond ring of solitude on fractured marble mantel of my heart. When long-departed nymphs of faith return with Holy Book of Fairy Tales form Hell, I sit beneath the apple tree of time to meditate on the meaning of life as I become Buddha Tiresias spawned from the hollow heart of liberty.
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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Monday, October 20, 2025
Hollow Heart Of Liberty
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Orpheus breaks into the Zarathian Museum of Fake Art and steals the diamond ring of Tiresias, then flies away to live with Lady of the Rocks on Patmos Island.
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