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Sunday, November 8, 2026

Always Voyage To Cythera

Always Voyage To Cythera
© Surazeus
2026 11 08

I wish I could find solace in how waves 
extract sharp thorn of sorrow from my heart 
yet leaves me bleeding on beach of despair 
so I wonder what words mean anymore 
as I spiral in vast abyss of stars 
what whisper thoughts of time-expanding hope. 

Grass consumes frail bodies of dead ghosts 
whose hands engrave their names on temple walls 
where vultures feast on the sacrificed god 
since Destiny is shaper of the Will 
through choices we express in devious words 
that trap us tangled in our fantasies. 

Complex creed of our socialized beliefs 
are bright illusions of our blinded eyes 
that guide our steps along the rocky shores 
of furious islands in fabulous seas 
where shipwrecked refugees build world empire 
on tale of the girl who steals fruit from snakes. 

Stuck as demon in the windowless realm 
of my imagination without walls, 
I wear gold mask of the sacrificed god 
to play his role in pageant of our state 
till snow-capped volcano explodes in flames 
that unravel secrets of dreamless brains. 

Thus I always voyage to Cythera 
where Sirens dance in sudden flash of rain 
so I can shelter in the temple hall 
since glass typewriter of Orpheus waits 
for me to chronicle current events 
through complex account of our search for truth. 

Across infinitude of stable air 
I dare explore realm of false parables 
with stubborn honesty woven from pain 
till I know myself as frail human being 
whose heart reflects in mirror of my eyes 
concept of God people project at me. 

White blood on tearless stones of honesty 
reveals source of torrential attitude 
that fuels my journey to the Promised Land 
where I rebuild grand temple of the god 
whose name is lost from books of history 
except as shadow on the grass at dawn. 

Groomed mightier than death from ecstasy, 
my heart is canonized by myth of love 
when I become the heavenless undone 
by grim assertion death requires I prove, 
so I float nameless in slow surging tide 
till wings of Icarus grow from my heart. 



1 comment:

  1. Orpheus searches island of Cythera for bones of the greatest poet who ever lived in history of the Earth though she spent her entire live singing as she tended garden of herbs.

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