the madness has a memory
beware the quiet
light flutters at the edges of my vision
and i let the curse feed my fire
like a silent delirium will i pray
outwardly to despair, to play a different game
inwardly to hold on, a wingèd strength
aesthetics string delicately together
where the art has stretched out its meaning to harden
to leave roses in our wake…
holy fire burns me, the ecstatic flames
love will heal in this way what cannot be mended
i am not mad:
eyes that have ranged far countries return only halfway
and the pain is a blindness
how can they not stare?
for we are all fearfully and wonderfully made
to pierce into the mystery with dagger eyes
to find what we had had all along
the curse lost in the light
the doom lost in futures past
beware the quiet
the madness has a memory