Dynasty Of Cloud-Born Gods © Surazeus 2026 08 14 Tickled by how often people will claim they are descended from some royal chief, I hide my own bloodline from jeweled crowns to prove I am more farmer that court clown, for hungry people digging in thick dirt outnumber people lounging on gold clouds. Flight far of anguished hearts on raven wings expends fraught energy my soul would save for braving storms of spirit-wounding words against stone wall of paradise I build to guard my frail mind from oppressive greed when hordes of hungry wanderers steal fruit. Impulse to build strong castle of high walls drives me to carve huge stones from jagged cliffs and stack my sorrows straight in measured lines that block aggressive theft of sacred fruit so I fight thieves with sword I forge from fear to found brave dynasty of cloud-born gods. All humans, equal in hunger to eat nutritious fruit that sprouts from pungent soil, start game of power on similar ground, but some succeed in producing more fruit they sell for coins of metal stamped with pride to crown themselves brave kings with right to kill. All people alive today on spinning Earth descend from more successful clans who guard productive fields of crops and groves of trees through strict cooperation in their roles, well-organized by wisest of their group who manages their family institute. We are descendants of successful thieves who work together to construct high walls surrounding garden where they follow rules designed to manage individual will with shared needs of communal fortitude, or risk getting expelled from paradise. If you find royal kings in jeweled crowns high in lofty court of your family tree, remember they kill threats to their state power when they eradicate the hungry poor so their children populate empty farms to colonize Earth with superior ways. We are descendants of those wealthy gangs who build stone castles from bones of dead gods, then force the poor to worship reverently mortal man who founded their dynasty as God incarnate on Earth in his son so they claim right to rule our humble lives.
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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Friday, August 14, 2026
Dynasty Of Cloud-Born Gods
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Orpheus tells everyone he meets that he is descended from the humble fisherman who feeds thousands of people every day from sea of his heart.
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