Raven In The Apple Tree © Surazeus 2026 05 20 Because the raven in the apple tree speaks ancient language of water on rocks that frame mysterious beauty of the world in tangled sentences of faithless words that mirror reverse image of my soul, I always walk backward through every door. Though I left homeland of Gothinia one hundred thousand years ago at dawn, I still feel frosty wind of snow-capped mountains swirl down across the endless steppes of sorrow which makes my heart ache with strange memories that leave me stranded on the Caspian shore. In eerie darkness of the endless night, as sparkling waves of hope swirl round my legs, I see bright angel descend from the moon in wind-blown dress of ambivalent wings to embrace my body with eager love that sparks soul of our child inside her heart. Yet star-eyed seraph hovering over me bestows on fragile mirror of my soul sacred name that signifies my dire fate which glows as lamp I bear in trembling hand to light my way across rough wilderness till tread of my feet blazes road of hope. Each road my feet blaze sea to shing sea becomes wheel-worn way across the land now paved with asphalt in the blistering sun where billions drive cars in circles of faith along passionate river of true love where we construct homes to shelter our hearts. When flock of swallows threads words of my heart across the endless steppes of shining wheat, I follow trail of wings through loneliness to find home of the sun beyond the sky with ache of longing in my homeless heart to eat sweet apples with you by the lake. While you dance gracefully in flowered field and laugh with ache of joy to be alive, I play uncanny melodies of love by twanging taut strings on turtle-shell lyre to sing of beauty in your smiling eyes that wake my heart from grave of bleak despair. Electra smiles bright as the morning sun as we embrace with hope by flowing stream to kiss in harmony with sparrow song that drenches our lithe bodies in sunlight so when we sink in nothingness of death we leave our children alive in the world.
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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Wednesday, May 20, 2026
Raven In The Apple Tree
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Orpheus sings to himself while sitting on shore of the Caspian Sea, hoping to one day see his love Electra again if she returns from vale of singing skulls.
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