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.