Official Mask Of Fate © Surazeus 2026 07 09 Stuck in the painting of my faceless ghost, that hangs on sun-bleached wall of bloodless wind in empty house somewhere on signless road where no one ever goes to find their heart, I pretend I am cold light of the moon as I float deep in water of my mind. Awake in timeless silence of undeath, I love to feel soft undulating waves that people speak caress my tingling skin so I almost remember secret name my mother dreamed one hour before my birth which gleams as sunlight in web of tree limbs. While sitting in my house on somewhere street, with wife and children in their private rooms, I hear ten million voices whisper poems that pulse with energy of my heartbeat in global choir of angels who express ache of sorrow to design happiness. Your secret hopes and fears echo in words you write in posts on social media sites that shimmer in great cloud of divine lights translating human thoughts from tweets of birds that blend in raucous harmony of hope with desperate need to help each other cope. Though I gaze in pool where Narcissus drowned, I see your faces blend in my one face for we are angels of one human race born from First Mother whose whole heart is crowned with jeweled ring of wisdom we all share in coil of genes that weaves our souls with care. Though I hear all your voices echo clear in woods where Echo plays the violin, that radiates vibes of mental medicine, I sing in syncopated rhyme of cheer that cracks enormous egg of dragon brain which nourishes my heart to soothe its pain. Bloomed in the painting of my faceless ghost which I wear as official mask of fate, I attend the Global Conference of Seers at University of Zarathia to present panel on star prophecies composed by Sibyl in the Vatican. All weird illusions of my special role dissipate to mist on shore of the lake where words of every poem that humans write sparkle as water of silent respect on which I row my boat of fantasy to photograph proud monster of the deep.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Translate
Thursday, July 9, 2026
Official Mask Of Fate
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Orpheus records songs Echo plays on violin which millions buy at concerts she plays in great halls of innocence in every city around the world.
ReplyDelete