Dark Muse
09-22-2011, 07:44 PM
Dance With the Devil
There is nothing as passionate
as a stranger in the dark,
with eyes that belong to a
soul of the lost and a smile
with more sorrow than joy.
Beneath the halcyon light
a melody starts to play,
a romance bittersweet that
never dies but ebbs with the
shadows of night.
And he dances a dervish
that would chase the Devil
into the pale moonlight,
a broken silhouette he
wears rhythm on his sleeve,
possessed by the fiddler's lament.
He confesses with the motion
of his limbs, carving out lines
of truth, breathing in the darkness
of his mind with a remorse
that his body exculpates.
There is nothing as passionate
as a stranger in the dark,
with eyes that belong to a
soul of the lost and a smile
with more sorrow than joy.
Beneath the halcyon light
a melody starts to play,
a romance bittersweet that
never dies but ebbs with the
shadows of night.
And he dances a dervish
that would chase the Devil
into the pale moonlight,
a broken silhouette he
wears rhythm on his sleeve,
possessed by the fiddler's lament.
He confesses with the motion
of his limbs, carving out lines
of truth, breathing in the darkness
of his mind with a remorse
that his body exculpates.