On Madness
The imminence of something dangerous glimmering in these train of words, The sense of incoherent ecstasy and riddled dejection, The weight of fear of strings on the chest, And the figures invisible to anyone else; That life is a dream and to wake up to an endless wakefulness is terrible, That silence is strangled by uncanny voices lurking in the shadows, That blue appears to be bluer and everything else is terribly monochromatic, That against the forces of evil I am alone; But You who came in that blinding white luminousity took my frozen hand, So that I may learn how to walk the sands of the earth again, So that I may breathe in peace and wash my soul clean, So that I may wipe the tears and wear a smile on my lips.