New Life Always Springs © Surazeus 2026 03 08 Vague splatter of misty rain on soft grass frames frantic despair of my heart with glow of mute sorrow at constant loss of life, yet new life always springs from mud of death with flourishing passion of timeless desire for us to dwell together in our space. Paused at flaming gates to leave paradise, I look back at shining temples of gold where people cheer song of the noble hero, then turn my face to emptiness of hope and walk in graveyard of the lonely world where billions of people killed in wars wait. I almost hear their voices in the wind, each one telling me of their tragic fate, till all their spirits swirl in hurricane of mocking laughter at God on his throne who glares enraged that his authority crumbles at relentless process of fate. Instead of arranging flowers on graves of innocent people mangled by bombs, I scatter apple seeds that sprout in trees so cemetery of our endless wars transforms into vast forest of fruit trees which nourish my body with love for life. Billions of trees blooming from our dead bodies transform material of our dreaming brains to stars that glitter in vast void of space with unrequited love for worlds of souls who live and die with endless swirl of change as we evolve from fish to singing god. On every planet in the universe one conscious creature pauses on their way, and gazes through infinity of space to see each other in mirror of love, our special faces becoming one face who sings our dreams in timeless song of light. Though I may weep for every conscious soul who ever lived and died on every world, collective radiance of their countless brains weaves my small brain in matrix of their truth so I dream complex patterns of their lives when I sleep under watch of the Moon Crow. When I meet Circe on the ocean shore and drink wine offered by her generous hand, I find my mortal body of desire transformed into immortal beam of light when she gives birth to me from seed of hope that drives me to live ten thousand years more.
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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Sunday, March 8, 2026
New Life Always Springs
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Orpheus herds pigs for Circe who lounges in large temple on the hill and drinks wine till she asks him to play lyre of Mercury and sing because she is bored.
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