The Madness Of

Madness…..the thing that reaches out and up and through

Blights the mind through the eyes and ears

Wrenching at the orbs washed in the darkness of deep

Introspections that went on too long.

 

You have propped open the gates of self-learning

So they can never close….                               ….self has no meaning now

Madness flows in and is welcomed and temperance

Of that flow is decried; with zealot fervor and narrow inquisitor glare.

 

Both rope-bound riddle and threadbare philosophy

Clamor in little, dying breaths that they can be solved

Through recursive mapping of impracticable ideals

Which never have suffered reality’s invections.

 

If the world is truly held on the broad shoulders

Of a titan, then you are the red high heel, the hemp sandal

The pristine boot of justice, stamping on his neck—

So sure, so righteous; until he drops it.

 

Hold fast now, as it rolls out the door….                       .… into the black;

One more orb extinguished.

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