Empty Space Of Time

Empty Space Of Time
© Surazeus
2025 07 28

If Death catches me listening to the ground, 
I will define its empty space of time 
as home where we can gather in the grass 
to weave wild laughter of the wind in songs 
that flush ethereal spirit through our hearts 
so we can row our boats across the lake. 

Bright clouds cast shadows of our faceless souls 
that drag our bodies across fields of bones 
till moonlight resurrects us from our dreams 
to run with horses on the river shore 
where they explain how blind trees produce fruit 
while I write songs in mud with bloody sticks. 

Because the lost road takes us to the snow 
we kneel with humble gratitude for Death 
who teaches us to eat lush grass of graves 
where cows still dream for twenty thousand years 
watched over by the woman with the lamp 
which gleams with eyes of demons born from rain. 

White lizards swallow asteroids of fate 
to show us where our children will be born 
so we arrange feathers from angel wings 
in clear proportion to unknown desires 
worn by the woman with blood on her face 
who dances wild for twenty thousand years. 

Because we meet the dead on all lost roads 
we give them names that make them come alive 
so we build homes along the river shore 
where children of our bodies run and play 
till they grow into planet-conquering gods 
who stand on lonely pyramids and cry. 

The woman who gives light to wandering souls 
assembles refugees from civil wars 
in loyal tribes who worship her one eye 
because she rules for twenty thousand years 
each empire that dares rise from skulls of gods 
who give maps of world roads to hungry sons. 

The old man strumming mandolin of hope 
recounts adventures of the three-eyed fox 
who tricks proud minions of the carpenter 
to hunt the devil in the rancid swamp 
yet still refuses to play chess with Death 
though he makes fatal deals on the lost road. 

While promenading with Death on the lost road, 
who wears her black lace dress and scarlet cape, 
I remember myself as river boy 
when I lay naked on the time-smooth stone 
and listened to the sky of aching stars 
explain why all organic bodies die.