The Devil’s Comedy
You are weary from the near blindness,
from the fog that surrounds you,
Paths once familiar, vanish.
Landmarks are transformed into creatures of the night
and you are unsure
whether to stay where you are
and hope the fog lifts,
or tread on strange ground,
to other places you will not recognize.
Myths say fog always lifts,
but you are old enough to know that is a lie,
or if it lifts, it is replaced by more in the blink of an eye,
some cosmic tease,
the devil’s comedy.
So put on a good show.
Sing for the devil, and dance.
Never let him know your light lives within,
or that all destinations are full of magic
stronger than his own.
About this poem.
Ever thought you knew how it would all turn out? Were you as wrong as me?
PS – The picture was taken behind my house.