by Zoe Nova
A small, contradictory bit of poetry is good for the soul. Please partake.
|It was a wild and tangled night
While love was in the air
That I met the shadowed figure
Who told me life from death.
I was at a loss for words,
My reply came nearly empty.
When your soul runs empty
Quench yourself in the night
They speak lessons too big for words
And finer than thin air.
The tell me not to fear death,
And cut myself a fine figure.
I’ve lost too many times, it figures,
But I’m nowhere near empty.
I know not what lies beyond death,
But if it’s anything like late at night,
Watching stars float through the air,
Then God and I will have some words.
Don’t listen to me, these are only words.
Find your own towering figure!
Race through time, hands in the air,
And you’ll never come up empty.
You can play throughout the night
And laugh right in the face of death.
Don’t be acquainted with death,
And follow all of the songs and words
Your friends taught you, keep you safe at night.
Life would be a breeze, you figure.
That’s the way it should be, until you hit empty.
And are lost in the cold, dark air.
Don’t awaken, just float through the air.
Happy, though a hair’s width from death.
It’s these things that keep us whole, not empty
And feed our souls with more than words.
Turn a smile up to that shadowed figure!
And embrace, fully, the time of the night.
Rush through the air, feel the night!
Death doesn’t figure in our mythologies.
You are never empty if you keep friendly words.