I reached out to the end of it all 
And saw a vision of my own fall. 
 
Mephistopheles walked me 
until I got jittery, and 
ran fast as he could 
soon as I did. 
Each day thereon, 
I resented my being with 
him and his pack. 
But in all that time, 
he had mine 
and I had 
his back. 
If it was all play, 
he wasn’t anywhere 
near dropping his act. 
 
And so, I lived on. 
 
I had no other calling. 
I could only wait to see 
my own self falling. 
I could do nothing else. 
The mind rode only on the 
past and present of oneself. 
And I continued to 
draw on that very line 
 
and kept on living, 
 
Thinning that line, 
Killing what’s mine, 
Cutting down time 
to the day I had 
once seen 
 
and living it had begun. 
 
I got on the same track. 
They were all with me, 
him and his pack, his shadows. 
And they took me to the same place 
I had once envisioned as my altar, 
 
but their ritual never began. 
 
The act went on too long to be a sham. 
I shook his and he shook my hand. 
The day ended with 
every step to and away 
from the altar being 
what I lived to see then. 
I didn’t know whether I had 
gained or lost a friend. 
And the vision came to me 
every now and then, 
but nothing happened. 
 
Until he walked me right up to the altar 
once again.