Pool Of Her Luminous Heart © Surazeus 2026 10 01 While angels and devils fight in the sky as lightning flashes in swirling black clouds, I wander along crumbling asphalt road far out in the desolate countryside to the abandoned mansion of gray wood where faceless ghosts float in one thousand rooms. Before rotten stump of the ancient tree, that once sheltered children with joyful eyes who played games on long summer afternoons, I kneel and touch small sprout of tender leaves that struggles to grow from its legacy and bloom with apple rubies of true faith. When I touch roots with anguish of regret, that radiates from despair of wounded hearts since people I love were slaughtered in war, passionate beam of psychic energy spirals through expanding scope of consciousness which manifests in tree of global faith. Celestial goddess robed in tattered pain vibrates with spark of cosmic synergy that spirals from pool of her luminous heart so she creates our spinning world of souls to pulse in ocean of atomic waves, then sings while drenched in golden seeds of faith. Emerging from weird visions at gray dawn, I ponder meaning of that vague word, Faith, which weak men, trapped by duty to succeed, wield as weapon of spiritual control, so I gaze at old crumbling house of hope that creaks in wind of innocent desire. How fiercely I longed to escape this house and live with passion in city of lights, but vampires cloaked in dapper suits of wealth, instead of humble knights with crafting tools, became obsessed with beauty of my face and sucked bright spirit of my naive heart. Instead of Penelope waiting at home for Odysseus to return to warm hearth, I am Medusa searching for true love, for I have left behind gods turned to stone as tragic lessons no one cares to learn, yet hope to find Perseus waiting for me. Wrapping her long tangled hair in firm bun, Mary unlocks door of her family home, cleans every room with broom and mop of faith, then sits in leather armchair by the hearth to sip hot chocolate and watch snowflakes flash in timeless light of the gold Full Moon.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Orpheus wanders toward the old mansion shining gold in the dark snowy night till he shivers and tumbles on wingless sorrow to float in arms of the old woman who knows.
ReplyDelete