Snow-White God Butterfly © Surazeus 2026 07 11 If I cast my bread in waters of hope, after selling devils ten thousand cars, I could buy descendant of Pegasus to fly above vast maze of city streets where people chase bright rainbow of respect till they vanish in television shows. With sharp knife of assertive innocence, I slice bread loaf of economic gain so every person in the world can eat as if food is the answer to despair, because the snow-white god butterfly knows secret passion of my casino heart. Though all gods humans worshipped in the past are nameless gusts of wind in sun-gold trees, I feel them ever present in my home for they haunt those who think about them most, small lights of hope in darkness of the world that guide my way in tangled woods of change. Ghost of my mother in her living room sits in the rocking chair of timeless truth, and knits another sweater of concern from huge ball of traumatic memories which she gives to homeless people downtown who wear them when they huddle in snow fall. Since the dream ghost of everyone decides to sell lamp of Diogenes to Thor, our bodies have become vessels of thought programmed to perform duties for the dream that hard work is rewarded with great wealth which we all share in our hypnotic trance. When Alfred the Great and Harald Fairhair play game of chess in Kronborg Castle court over who will wear the golden Crown of Thorns, Phoebus takes hand of Alof Gydhasdottir and sails with her to misty Isle of Skye where they fly his starship to Magrathea. Now that I know my whole ancestral tale, filled with men and women with starry eyes who attempted to build Heaven on Earth, I can relax on shore of River Styx and think of how to map world history that includes every soul who ever lived. After I work in the car factory, assembling engines from midnight till dawn, I hang out in meadow of dew-wet grass and listen to snow-white god butterfly describe how swerving atoms interact to conjure consciousness in dreaming brains.
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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Saturday, July 11, 2026
Snow-White God Butterfly
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Orpheus finds Pegasus grazing in the dew-wet meadow by the River Styx where the winged horse of fate watches over my grave for the rest of eternity.
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