Tyrant In Gold Tower © Surazeus 2026 06 30 Wolves in vast meadow of the star-eyed flower, who understand assignment of the heart, erase from dream the tyrant in gold tower who steals ripe apples from the broken cart. Exponent of creation from the Earth, love teaches us what sorrow should be worth. From river bed I gather chrysoprase that gleam with vibrant hue of nickel flakes so I may transcend level of each phase through hidden tunnels of electric lakes. If faith is peerless bridge of eagerness, I play my scene as humble Sisyphus. On vacillating feet of holy pride I leap on wings of Icarus to teach brave children how to find what angels hide in necessary caverns beyond reach. Why modesty reverses magnitude I calculate through haughty fortitude. More bountiful with each exploding dawn, my heart expands scope of its confidence to rise from grave of laughter on bombed lawn and eat rose petals with fierce nonchalance. Weird flames of sunrise burn mask of despair so I stand laughing on time-twisted stair. Minerva asks calm Death for secret code by which she calls my heart of grinding gears that traps lithe Spirit of the signless road with fame of dust designed by puppeteers. Encased in pulsing shell of thinking clay, Apollo asks me to come out and play. Through hungry Will of cosmic energy I act in line with channel of my brain to prove peace is no fiction of the free despite how far I ballet in bleak rain. Through observation manifold of fate I question how my choices transform hate. Escaping backward to sea shore of hope, I dare confront her glittering embrace when Death disguised as Love helps me to cope with blinding beauty of her glamorous face. Immersed in constant flux of mental growth, I resurrect my passion through weird oath. Without instruction of divine concern, Fame dotes on those whose hearts play calm with ease, yet I gain happiness each time I learn thought formulas that beam atomic keys. Death blows my wounded heart with vanity that heals with wisdom through vitality.
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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Tuesday, June 30, 2026
Tyrant In Gold Tower
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Orpheus asks everybody in the country if they have ever seen the tyrant in gold tower, but no one cares as they celebrate the Semiquincentennial of America.
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