Backward My Dream Mind © Surazeus 2026 07 16 Backward my dream mind, vast as mountain vale, wild gushing waters of hope overtake, so on winged horse of innocent respect I travel abreast with Nature afar to comprehend strange music of her form that vibrates with psychic music of love. Forward with tattered pirate map of hope, remnants of friends in buried treasure chests, I search for in abandoned yards of dreams whose world of secrets I abandoned, lost by walking signless road of nowhere else till I find something lodged inside my heart. How many jagged mountains of desire I wonder wait for my mind to explore secret caves of cold fire, blue as dawn ice, where I would lay my body down to die still as sharp ache of hope that stabs my heart with eager passion to drink moon-bleak tears. Waves of the ocean reach for my soft heart with hunger to devour soul energy pulsing through blood veins with new strategies to outmaneuver thieves in business suits, because they sell cliffs to the gullible as suitable fields to cultivate crops. Another friend returns with stolen gems from naked underworld of honesty because he knows how to unpuzzle truth concealed in alabaster jar of oil rancid with secret desires of true love for beauty embodied in sculptured mask. My fake voice lingers in dim emptiness with shocking melody of bitterness sweetened by tumultuous ardency to sing with resonant silence of truth that cracks foundations of world empires so our faces become square as glass books. No wandering gypsy of the river woods dares curse my heart with unrequited love which I package with plastic dolls of fear for sale to discrete tyrants of concern though some prefer fake gratitude of fruit rotten with spices of arrogant faith. Marvelous thoughts trapped in fairy-tale books encourage me to question noble laws contrived to rig the social game of power in favor of the privileged elite who bury treasures outside paradise so I leave secrets hidden in the heart.
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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Thursday, July 16, 2026
Backward My Dream Mind
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Orpheus fashions mud into the bird, then sparks its life awake by breathing ethereal spirit of heaven, thus we aspire to fly beyond the godless sky.
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