Somnambulist

Devils are winsome on a moonlit eve, when filigree skies with stars belight.
Angels, too, are known to weave their dance steps to the song of night.

It was upon one such occasion I myself witnessed in silence,
As an unknowing liaison, their employ of tender violence.

Calling wildly, madly, to me, devils all cavorted ‘round.
Singing mildly, sadly, gloomy angels used persuading sound.

Little could I fight seduction from unearthly pleasure sources,
One mere mortal in abduction by such otherworldly forces.

Madly, thought did beat against me, remembrances of rationale.
Never thought I to escape the captors of my meek morale.

On and on their midnight tremble weighed upon my fleshly mind,
Faerie wine poured in a thimble awakened lust, desire did find.

Soon I fell into the dances, raised my voice in clarion call.
Gambled I to take my chances joining in this midnight ball.

On and on we drank and mingled angels unto devil-kind,
Then with devils after singled out the angels we would bind.

Midnight hours wound along the hands of clocks that have no key.
Devils soon saw fit to wrong the very flesh that set them free.

Angelic, my dark desires, soared on wings of leathern ply.
Forgotten were my mortal fires, mortal flesh all clad in sky.

Yet some pain did I awaken, told of my regret to wean
Myself from honeyed silk and, shaken, extricate me from this scene.

Sober soon, my heart grew stronger, and my wit grew keener still.
When I could await no longer, “Lo!” I cried, “I’ve had my fill!”

Both the angels and the demons shrieked and crooned in their dismay.
Spirits cannot hold a dream on songs and dances, anyway.

Ay, they hated me so quickly, and so rapidly begrudged
My rapt attendance to their games where yet before they had not budged.

Still, at times I often wonder if companions yet await
In the darkness, in the thunder, for me to somnambulate.

It could be ‘twas dreaming only, or perhaps we did succeed
In transcending flesh in lonely hours through our lustful greed.

Angels, devils, and one man in covenant that night did lay,
Transgressing that solemn ban to have their little passion play.

Some with words of wisdom write: be wary of sleep in a devil’s bed.
I would add only, if I might: go thou lightly where angels tread.

Copyright JC Augustus Lai Andurin. Image courtesy of Pixabay.

JC Augustus Lai Andurin

J.C. Augustus Lai Andurin is an Irish-American author and philosopher. Having spent much of his life traveling the U.S., Europe, and Asia, he has a fierce wanderlust and thirst for knowledge. Despite his adventurous spirit, he is a husband and father, first and foremost, with three wonderful children.

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