POEMA My Satanic Muse, Where Do You Come From?

 

My Satanic Muse, Where Do You Come From?

Heaven or hell, Oh Beauty, where is your home?
Your infernal and divine gaze roams,
Between goodness and crime you walk the line,
And, like wine, you intoxicate, sublime.

Your scent, a stormy afternoon’s breath,
Burning leaves, a whisper of death.
Your kisses, a liquor that ignites the soul,
Your mouth, a filter where passions unroll.

Heroes grow weak, and the timid grow bold,
At your touch, hearts falter, and tales are retold.
Do you surge from the abyss so black?
Or descend from the stars with a shimmering track?

Fate follows your skirts like a dog in heat,
Bringing joy or disaster to all whom you meet.
You reign over moans, bound to none,
Marching on corpses, still teasing, still young.

From your jewels, even Horror enchants,
And Death, your lover, beside you pants,
With the look of a man near his grave,
Caressing his doom, fearless, yet brave.

Where do you come from, heaven or hell?
Your eyes, your smile, they cast their spell.
They open a door to an infinite place,
A realm I adore but have never embraced.

From Satan or God, who truly knows?
Angel or demon, wherever you go—
You make the universe less terrible, it's true,
And with you, my sins fall away like dew.

Oh, my only muse, my dark delight,
You are the star that banishes night.