Satan's Student
I rowed away that evening,
In that boat with a man in shadow,
Upon the vast lake of swirling mist.
The candles flickered into nothing,
I recall the smell of smoke.
The fragrance was not of candles.
The flambeau-lit hell below had died,
The devil had lost his battle.
The fragrance had come from the hell above.
The memory replays in my mind,
Never ending,
Never ceasing to haunt me.
Forever engraved.
My seeming love is sound beside me.
Dare I wake him and ask of his dreams?
Dare I question his pleasant thoughts?
I feel for the mirror,
Apathway which seems familiar.
Stumbling, crawling on my knees,
I wade the lake of mist and fog,
For the boat pains me,
Pains me from the memory.
I call his name,
My beloved,
My angel,
My teacher.
None but an echo.
Roses clutter the ground and the water,
Each clipped to perfection.
Upon the most elegant rose of all,
There lye a porcelain mask.
Am I truly an angel or a demon?
As Ihad beenSatan's student.