Ghosts Of River Stones © Surazeus 2026 08 15 Because golden butterfly of my heart still inhabits timeless Arcadia, untouched by concerns of urbanity, I summon ghosts of river stones with song that swirls from abyss of my aching heart to form stars that dream my eternal self. Awake through epiphany of this hour, my mind invents mundane significance that never exists in atomic things so I assign weird names to things I see which helps us understand how we should feel as we stroll shyly among the fruit trees. This Nature we perceive as pure and good our brains invent from scattered memories that we assemble into grand world view so we can celebrate his vibrant being which generates our conscious sense of self as our bodies thrive in matrix of dream. We strip dreams of external reference so they will bend upon themselves in wings of weird songs we express with pulsing breath through brave intention to become our words when state of emptiness negates our will that fuels feedback loop of positive love. Thus we pursue alternative venues through clever maneuver of leaping laughter that hollows our exploding hearts of fear so we declare great things we dare achieve when we become moonlight in leafless trees that knows where we will lie down when we die. Awed on high mountain of pastoral peace, I gaze at vast metropolitan maze where countless towers, built of steel-framed glass, glimmer eerily with electric lights which emanate weird psychedelic glow as heaven our ancestors never envisioned. Inspired by beauty in this maze of towers, frantic seismograph of my eager heart transcribes in arcane riddles of respect conceptual gyre of psychic lunacy that oscillates between spirit and flesh to weave complex paradigm of new myths. Empyrean vision of my dreamless brain compiles all human myths of clever gods through sensual verity of psychic tones so I multiply myself with human masks that wakes every soul who has ever lived in temporary node of my god brain.
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, August 15, 2026
Ghosts Of River Stones
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Orpheus wanders along rivers in Arcadia where ghosts of river stones hum in harmony with conceptual hymn of his countless mortal selves in our minds.
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