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The Madness
In the early morning hours the madness reigns, creeping and crawling through the boundary from death to life, between sleep and shaky wakening.
During sunny optimistic morns when one's defenses are down, it sizes up the toll time has taken on the withering soul. It knows when the mind will weaken: today and the morrow.
Madness reigns when the best we have just isn't enough. When we don't close the distance in our love of life, it partners us - we end alone.
In quiet solitude, we hear our Vices beckoning whispers, "Join us." Cataloged embarrassments, mistakes and past pain return to taunt, "We're not through with you yet."
I scream, "I can't take any more." It responds, "Take what?" Then all begins again like a bad dream without end. When sadness never goes away, the morn and the even have no meaning.
Then, I do the unspeakable, give up and join the dark dance. Lost now, in the mad tango of poisoned words, smoke and mirror mirage, I am one of them.
I always have - never realized it - been mad.
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