Showing posts from February, 2012

Satan's Wine

He often wrote, but now in closed spaces ever since that day... That day when he was compared, not by someone else; neither to someone else... That day when he had compared Himself to Him.... They say poets are green-eyed creatures, even sceptical of praise,  for the fear of mockery... Living on their own strange decree, they find at times a sultry pleasure  in creating rules that are downright laughable  to sane humans... Maybe the very reason, they find these mendates intoxicating... He vacillated between the rule of Satan and Angel, of envy and praise, like a mirror that has unpolished corners, it reflected him; but also that aura beyond... And so he cursed his words one day,ranting and drank from its wine the other day,rejoicing Until he started sleeping in fitful spells like a spirit enchanted... Waiting for that comparison from someone else comparison with someone else... The spell had to be broken,either ways...