The dusk has come
And daylight dims for demons
We can chase away in traps of prayers
From habit, I decide to close the door
For behind, the walls allow for more secluded sleep
Two o’clock of course awakens me, as usual,
Before the time of dreams that stay in hearts
This body leaves the mat for armchair prayers
Because my faith is fond of comfort
And there it comes, as light is flickered on
That mosquito of mornings
It hangs and hops, in hoops and loops
And zips and zooms, and darts and dashes
Quick as a flash, in a flick it is gone,
Breaking zigzags, blowing zephyrs
And it dances in prances
Like the strides in cranky tangoes
From any angle it dangles
It’s only mangled and jangling music
Raising twangs of anger doubling pangs of anguish
I’m aware its sounds and rounds
Can trouble and humble
Any apprentice of God
The one that learns the science of patience when in prayer
He, as all of us, will see his vows of virtues vanquished
Deaf to the rooster that crows to remind of forgotten beliefs
Even the monk he pretends to become
Will curse and mumble, and swear and drivel
To the tune and the cadence of chaos
A mosquito inflicts on the mind that is mimicking meditation
You can see the man, aggrieved, gesticulating, all in jests and jerks,
Thinking a puppet in pieces, that is panting and puffing away,
Can dispel the remembrance of sins
That hovers high, on wings and buzzes
In places where mosquitoes sense a vein,
Damp and tepid
This is the blood that an insect attempts to infect
And so, the mosquito, a merchant of misery,
Can deliver in a dose of disturbance
Its diseases dispensed as damnation
It dreams indeed that such a dread will drive me into full dementia
Tonight, though, I will fight this plight
Now is the time to confront the ambitions in vices of Mister Mephisto
I’ll be sitting here, or standing, staying still, it seems
Until this heart can see the dust of days and destinies
Waiting for worries to wake up again
My soul will fake assumed serenity
Invoking, through some incantation speaking silence, Sir Mosquito
In a matter of minutes, for sure, its antics run amok,
The rogue will run its errand, around and around
And dance and tease me, and dare and tempt me
I will dare to dance
The way a dervish does amid the demons
Spinning round and round
Until this devil, dizzy, turns to dust, defeated,
Failing in front of the quietest of faith