Gothic Armor Of My Heart © Surazeus 2026 07 19 Still alive on land ripe with certainties, I draw dividing line of innocence straight between reason and insanity so can I taste truth through infinity and stop where calm wind erases despair to convert guilt into hope without luck. Removing gothic armor of my heart, as grim prizefighter wounded by the word my grandmother speaks outside prophecy, I weed old Garden of Gethsemane where skulls of prophets sing without dream code that guides my way through epochs of world power. No shallow mercies of the castle court reveal source of iron in stringent caves where demons no longer haunt dreams of seers, so I design new theme for Wonderland that might attract the summer tourist crowd who love to watch Death judge the deeds of fools. Entranced by weird Saronic blue of time that shimmers on the timeless sea of truth, I wander somewhere in Arcadia beyond fictional framework of the map along the signless road of nowhere else to dwell in mountain temple of dead gods. Soft cries of owls in woods of harmony expose electric glow of urgency that leads us to small mountain pool of stars where Pythagoras counts infinity contained in measurement of simple words programmed as formulas we code from fear. Smoke from my humble hearth of fantasy towers in luminous ghost of respect so I stand small and frail on river shore engulfed by grand immensity of time that wraps my heart with ancient ardency, filled with conscious mind of divinity. Strange darkness of the boundless night contrives to swell my heart with love for the sublime that gleams with pristine beauty of our words when we exchange solemn vows of true love, then return to our tower of romance before lightning strike shatters our world view. Though sunlit demons of faith animate our fragile bodies with unholy chime, we explore uncanny vales of liberty in line with ultimatum of soul fate which calculates how far we have to go to build foundation of our global state.
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, July 19, 2026
Gothic Armor Of My Heart
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Orpheus wanders along winding rivers of Arcadia to find temple of the Great American Bard whose elegies and satires reprogram how people know God.
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