Sword Heavy In My Hand © Surazeus 2026 02 02 When my just sword grows heavy in my hand from brave defense of world democracy, I must find the place to end my crusade in our noble fight against tyranny, so I will face the tyrant with calm faith and cast him down from tower of his greed. Thus I will sacrifice health of my soul to save brave people of Earth from his greed by rolling stone of justice up the hill so power of the people may roll down and smash idol of gold with feet of clay that leaves his head lost in waste land of truth. Just as spirit of Jesus comes again each generation as prophet of freedom, spirit of Satan erupts from foul hearts with fierce aggression to exploit our souls, endless battle between darkness and light since Mazda and Iman fought for the crown. Nebuchadnezzar with his iron fist, Ozymandias with his jeweled crown, and Herod with his eagle on the pole, possess bodies of morally weak men who enforce dictatorship of their greed, tearing through institutions with mad rage. When weird angelic son of Tantalus, shifting deep in dragon egg of our hearts, struggles to be born from chrysalis of social justice in depths of the well, we unleash black dog of our revolution and beat our plowshares into swords of fate. Weak men who rage against machine of death with fierce intention to control the state expend intense amounts of energy to sustain fragile structure of fake power, till they fall exhausted in cave of Hell so creative work may blossom in peace. All mad kings grasping at rainbows of wealth collapse from rotten anguish of despair while clever smiths who design work machines wave aprons high as flag of liberty to design system of social exchange that benefits every soul who works well. When bloody sword grows heavy in my hand, I beat firm function of its sharpened state in plowshare I employ to furrow fields, and tend wheat as loaf-ward of the warehouse disbursing loaves of bread to every soul so we may feast while Phoebus plays the lyre.
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, February 2, 2026
Sword Heavy In My Hand
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Orpheus adjusts the plowshare and the sword in the Zarathian Museum of World History for people to study the dual nature of civilization.
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