The Devil Sits

The devil sits,
watching a plan unfold.
It is not his,
nor any he knows,
but it appeals,
his sense of humor tickled.
He ponders the subtlety
and appreciates
the delicate hand
which must have
been behind it all.
And he watches a chain
that none but he can follow.
Countless tragedies,
all building
to a crescendo,
and he finds himself
transfixed.
It spirals down
onto one individual,
every action sparking
a burn on his skin.
He falls, broken,
suffering,
and finds,
in this person,
a sense of pity,
not from his pain,
but that he was
merely an actor
unaware of the script.
He comes,
and allows this man,
confused,
to see what
beginnings
came to pass upon him.
The man departs,
a path left before him
unfinished,
and the devil finds
the chain unbroken,
himself another link.

Blurred Silence

Swept at the legs,
a torrent
of ice and water,
dirt and fire.
A landslide
that consumes wholly,
drowning me
in motion
to leave me buried
underneath it all
still
silent
alone