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Light On the Devil's Chord - Day 29

Somehow, Forward, and headlong I knew it was day again There was a shift in the dark mutterings of the Devil, Who now refused to sleep as I refused to sing, Almost an anticipation in his voice, As if he needed this newfound attention, And as he waited I wondered how quickly He sought to leap into my dreams The nights I recalled of late were billowed in sick reservoirs of resentment, Hatred, cruel agony and, as always, Plot overlapping plot Yet, there was, In every vagrant heart, a beat, A thrumming of movement, A strum of bass, and a shrill of strings, stings, screams Voices moaning in strange harmonic rhythms It was very much alive— A hell much exultant in the night’s hour And as day broke, it seemed as if hell, And all of its inhabitants therein, Mourned The Prison of Plot silenced at my awakening, And even the Devil ceased his mutterings to gaze at me I lifted my body out of the pool of warm water, Studying his fixed gaze “Why do you immerse yourself in such holy waters,” He began, His voice gravelly and gruff, “When you could easily, like I, Rise above it?” I stepped onto the mucky shore, My eyes locked into his own I stretched the exhaustion away, Brushed aside the fear, the anxiety and the dry tears And I listened to his heart— A thumping, begrudging, trudging beat “There is no existence warmer,” I sang, “Than the co-existence of man and truth, And in this truth, the Spirit resides, Rising above foolish prides, Boiling over lies, Overflowing in grace Leaving evil with nothing to trace, And in these whispers, Do I know my place, And where it falls silent, Do I see your face…” For a heavy moment he only stared, Then he tore his eyes from me, His expression, crude, impoverished He leaned against the walls, His claws scratching the cracked stones His palms pressed upon them tightly He was stuck in some personal inferno, And with ravenous reverie, he turned his head toward the pool A thick envy pouring into his eyes He watched the flowing waters tickle the shores He knew as much as any if he were to intrude, Like oil, he would be merely an exclusion Once again, Wholly black against the mocking transparency, And hence wholly separated So instead he turned again and watched me, sourly, As I cupped water into my hands, The moisture of its touch giving me life, I splashed it upon my face, my eyes opening, I took my time near the pool, Caring for my frame, caring for every part of me, Remembering the peace that the light has given Till, cleansed, my garments dried In the still airs of what prison callously offered “We seek not the destruction of your soul, But the amplification of your passions,” He spoke strongly, with rehearsed confidence “I have plotted and plotted, Not against you, but for you There is no song I would sing, If it did not reach your ears. There is no better truth, Than in your knowing tears And if you were to release your fears, Your cool resolve, I wish you should feel no urge To cleanse yourself before me No more should you tolerate it, To be hauled by your feet, Forced to look up, with the others, Merely sheep… To face his light…and shun your own With your hands and ankles knotted, Compelled to crawl out of the night, With your back towards me With your back towards me, You keep your peace…” I felt pain in his unfinished words, No longer knowing if it was his or my own I could see he wished to say more, His claws retracting against the walls, Mouth agitating, Readied and armored to speak, Something wild bore into him, Like a fire groping his insides, Unable to scorch him fully But agonizing him ever more… He collected himself and sung to me softly, “I am a stranger to you, again, I see, As you force yourself no more to be with me, Your dreams tell me more than your mouth could ever utter Could you even bear yourself to look, Into my eyes, To see her within me, She is what exists permanently in me, Whom I devour willfully Who has haunted you for years You worshipped her, unknowingly, You cared for me as she possessed you You tethered and tore your garments for me Exposing your deepest, grittiest hungers And now you immerse yourself in that poison Of truth, fallowing inside of you All hallowed and holy— NO! So that your garments wreak of all that I hate of you! Can you not bear to create once more? To think for your own once more? Can you fathom such a life, Free from the predictable firmaments Where you can burn alive and free, Writhing in its newness…” His voice fell lower yet ever louder, “Or have you come to me at last, To lure me, as I should you? Do you seek to be level to me then? How confident, privileged you are, To be chosen, righteously willing, To be the godly representation of the Millennium, The martyr maiden dancing with the wily Devil, Producing light in my only living prides, Swirling in the rages of my future destiny Willing to serve and save a lowly demon, And shame its Lord, I shan’t be so senseless, As to believe for one moment, You have come for self-preservation For a deeper view, an acumen of my ire To learn from me, So you may build your rock higher beside Christ who holds you so precious— You come to caress me, then desert me, As revenge, as retaliation You have come to show me love Only to take it all away in one feminine swoop You have come to scream, To fight as your hopeless grandfather did— To feel power again, To feel alive, So that you can return from the ugly, Into the embrace of light, And somehow, you think, With all of your new insight, That it may shine for you then more bright…” As he sang more and more heavily and hatefully, I moved ever toward him, Wrath coming over me, I felt it as he smiled inwardly, pausing for me to strike Breathlessly awaiting the sting of my blow Till all that separated us was our very selves, I inhaled our dissension “Of all the beats, Of all the moans, and screeches and screams, Your heart and all its constituents, Sing best to me… And of all my desires, Of all I wish to prove to Him, Your need impedes me Your fire falters me But as you cannot take the power of God, You cannot make me strike you You cannot make me your instrument You can play me, You can speak to me But, above all, you cannot be me So let me show you my purpose, Serpent Let me give you the truth I know, Dragon Let me give you your heart back, Prince… Let me show you who I am, Devil.”

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

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Date: 2/10/2017 8:43:00 PM
Understanding the relationship between manipulation and willpower, between possession and aggression are intelligently exhibited in this poem Laura. Your physical descriptions are great, and your philosophical heart beats confidently herein Poetess...J.A.B.
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Laura Breidenthal
Date: 2/10/2017 9:07:00 PM
For God to have chosen a humble, haunted woman of the Millennium is like a mock to the Devil, though in some ways it only appears to be a mock to harm her. But the Spirit is growing profusely and it means to ambush them. Thanks for understanding and reading. :) <3~Laura