Moment Of Lost Time

Moment Of Lost Time
© Surazeus
2026 06 13

Now that I am halfway through my life tale, 
I want to walk with you on the dirt path 
around the lake where summer breezes blow, 
and take photographs of your graceful soul 
to preserve this moment of our lost time 
so our image will remain though we die. 

Concerned about the price of tangerines 
that gleam with waterdrops on the store shelf, 
we weigh advantages of eating fruit 
in contrast to expending hours of hope 
researching variant types of meadow birds 
who seem to know our final resting place. 

Distraught by stories in the daily news 
about women and children who escape 
bombs that deconstruct their family homes, 
we turn the television off at sunset 
and stroll about the quiet neighborhood, 
waving to every person who drives by. 

My favorite mural in town of Pompeii, 
painted on thermopolium cafe, 
shows graceful Nereid with curly hair 
riding blue Hippocampus with fish tail 
while strumming golden lyre of Mercury, 
for you are incarnation of her soul. 

Agathodaemon slithering in my heart, 
with jeweled eyes that know the universe, 
flutters rainbow feathers along its spine 
as she protects sacred space of our home 
where we dwell safe from mobs of hungry souls 
who clamor for salvation from stone gods. 

To open crystal portal door of faith 
and slip back in time to when we first meet 
so we can avoid our too-tragic fate, 
we sit together on the river shore 
and talk about philosophy of being 
as if we are still Phoebus and Carmenta. 

Wearing masks of the Singer and the Sibyl, 
we perform play we wrote about their lives 
on the outdoor stage in the city park 
where people gather every Sabbath day 
to celebrate birth of Zarathia 
we build from ruins of America. 

Once romantic play of our lives is done, 
and all the ravens in the writhing oaks 
have flown beyond fake walls of paradise, 
we board small boat of skulls that Charon rows 
to glide across the oil-black River Styx 
and live forever in Elysium.