Sunday, February 5, 2023

When Death Comes

When Death Comes
© Surazeus
2023 02 05

When Death comes wearing eyes of the blind girl 
she sits at fractured window of the church 
and gazes at weird nothing of the world 
then tells me what is missing from its scope 
so I see strange beauty that is not there 
through ways of being that is not possible. 

When Death comes singing riddle of the waves 
she sits in hollow nowhere of her home 
to remember days fifty years before 
when she was young and full of vital fire 
for she still looks for awe in All of life 
because she sees Earth as sacred again. 

When Death comes riding horse of mountain wind 
she sits at kitchen table in her home 
to record her radical noticing 
with disconnected symbols of world myth 
which maps her exodus from maze of lies 
after social systems fail and break down. 

When Death comes searching for the Promised Land 
she sits in cemetery of dead gods 
to listen with her heart to songs of ghosts 
that emanate from tangled words of books 
so she can contemplate progress of life 
since we first rise from mirror lake of dreams. 

When Death comes wearing mask of the mad god 
she sits on giant river stone of faith 
and preaches to lost refugees of war 
way of salvation their minds must invent 
by breathing holy spirit of starlight 
that weaves atoms in neural nets of brains. 

When Death comes writing stories of our lives 
she sits in library of weeping books 
to breathe eternal darkness of the heart 
so we can distinguish voices of truth 
when gaining knowledge of the wilderness 
expressing consciousness the brain designs. 

When Death comes flapping wings of the lame angel 
she sits before mirror of timeless truth 
as statue carved from the sycamore tree 
that depicts Margarita on the front 
and fierce Mephistopheles on the back 
though she only sees herself in its glow. 

When Death comes chatting with skull of Orpheus 
she sits beneath the fruitful Tree of Knowledge 
till she transforms to her true serpent form 
as Melusine, First Mother of Mankind, 
whose long black hair and moon-pure eyes embrace 
fragile flame of my soul as we make love. 

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