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Monday, March 30, 2026

Hole Of Finite Thought

Hole Of Finite Thought
© Surazeus
2026 03 30

Because death collapses time in my head 
with sudden nothingness of the bright soul, 
I ponder what the living do each day 
to ignore the fact that we all will die, 
then I fish on shore of the singing lake 
and eat its roasted meat under weird stars. 

Framed in my unfurling future, I feel 
exaggerated vastness stretching time 
long enough to catch me before I fall, 
thwarted by excessive passion to live 
when I evade cruel death by accident 
in close proximity to sudden hope. 

Morning light of each new day after death 
arrives with bright elusive flash of faith 
that blinds my mind with truth beyond all words 
at sharpened thrill of opened aperture 
that strikes me with expected solitude 
so I float far alone on waves of where. 

Undetermined moment of someday soon, 
when I will cease to be awake with buzz 
of frantic energy to taste sweet fire, 
tethers tight my heart to silence of wind, 
hidden in scroll of lost voices by quill 
plucked from demonic wing of innocence. 

Brave enough with fractured luck of respect, 
I confront absence of my nameless self 
by calling phone number of my dead clone 
who answers with strange voice of ocean waves, 
but I become mad raven with three eyes 
that hangs out on the sad telephone line. 

So I avoid speaking in my own voice 
with assiduous intent to detach 
my body from lush fields of sparkling lakes 
where birds tweet love songs in flower-flame trees, 
because my being is hole of finite thought 
around which nothing radiates in blind gloom. 

Despite personal investment of hope, 
I stand in spotlight on stage of despair 
and drink milk of angels from burning clouds 
that pour from my eyes in fountains of tears 
which nourishes eight billion hungry souls 
while I float on surging sea of desire. 

My happiness fills shadow of my heart 
with sudden nothingness of silent death 
that blows bright rainbow darkness of my eyes 
open wide enough to become each star 
that twinkles in vast galaxies of souls 
while beneath every city my heart beats. 



1 comment:

  1. Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury to lead dead souls down to shore of the lake where they become fish we catch and roast over the evening picnic fire.

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