The Devil crept in
whispered- “it’s no sin,
Lift a glass to your lips…
just innocent sips
Lets dance my friend- lets dance.”
That Devil seemed to know me well
Hugging fast my withered shell
Shoulders hunched in sad eyed stares
Lost within my lonely cares
We slowly dance each night.
Filled and yet filled again
That glass became too small
Oh the Devil is a smart one
As he rides the wind of pain
misery scorched in the midnight sun
I danced my friend, my shameful claim to fame.
And both grape and grain
became the same
As we danced in time each day
With steel like bonds, in such a grip
Down I crept into a pit
Pride fled from me, in shame.
With sleep the shadows followed me
As withered leaves of once
Rejected self for just those sips
For mindless stumbled- frightened trips
Come dance my friend- lets dance.
(Mike)
Hmm. Curious, this very old association of the universal principle of evil with rhythmic movement. Reminds me of the legend of Rose Latulipe (tale from Québec), although in that case the village priest heroically confronted the Devil and sent him packing. Here, it seems, there is no redemption. “..both grape and grain became the same”: lovely diphthong.
powerful images here, scary stuff indeed.
pretty good that