Dream Devil Poem by Mario Albert Cepeda

I sit upon a comfortable chair within a warm environment.
My body is not aching, nor is my mind turbulent, vexed.
Dead are entombed; fetus nicely sheltered in mother's womb.
Children play in fields of joyed wonder,
while the old settle in places to ponder.
I dream with my eyes open, hoping to see at last,
a White Devil.
They say, 'devils are red as fire that burns like hell! '
or 'black as night, where shadows all fell.'
I am hoping he isn't so intense;
a mortal like myself in awkward circumstance.
I look up to heavens;
below where they rest;
to sides where they surround us;
so black and white confess,
'Even devils aren't one shade.
From perfection, gods aren't made.
Day and night are together one;
neither is betrayed.'