Valley Of The Singing Stone © Surazeus 2026 08 06 The rising midnight moon of silverness photographs beauty of the human face with colorful strangeness of wordless love to beam shape of our temporary souls in hearts of our descendants not yet born who wonder why they seem to feel immortal. The long-dead version of my secret self, who gazes at me from my photograph, reveals excessive passion of my heart that drives me to become this self I am, enchanted by sweet beauty of this world which emanates from soft mask of my face. Awake in quietness of summer dusk, that shrouds my aching heart with evening light, I relive entire lifetime of my faith through vast eternity of timeless now, amazed at how I blaze path of my hope toward grave I choose beneath the apple tree. I feel glass skeleton of my bright soul blaze with electric energy of love which I format from my ancestral masks, long molded by harsh mountain wind of fear as I climb river valleys of desire to stand on jagged peak of mute surprise. Through frosty aura of conceptual stars I see lush valley of tall blooming trees as haven where my weary bones may rest, so I descend from emptiness of time to build safe nest in pale of sturdy walls where children unravel our universe. I feel ten billion stars of swirling light explode in every cell that forms my flesh so beaming atoms of divine insight weave supple matrix of my hungry soul as I traverse the swift Albula River to dwell in valley of the singing stone. While climbing rugged trail of jagged rocks, that whistle at fierce blast of silver wind, I reach down to hold small hand of my son, and help Segomo with attentive care ascend high mountain of our lofty hopes, so his eyes glow with triumph of our search. Victorious with strength of wolfish minds, we progress past grim obstacles of fear toward moon that glimmers silver in the sky as shining mirror of ambitious hearts refracting light that guides our arduous way to Heaven we envision with brave words.
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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Thursday, August 6, 2026
Valley Of The Singing Stone
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Orpheus lounges in front of the high mountain cave, gazing down on the valley of the singing stone where thousands of people set up camp with tents and wolves.
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