My Days of Whirling Madness
My days whirl their mist with madness, a madness that’s not mad at all. Call it belief, personal thought or call it love, either way it’s mine to have and to hold, to give away or snuggle up with in the gloom.
The fractured light pours over the yard as the sun bows to the horizon, runs its fingers through the budding dusk and bids adieu to another day without rain. Birds flap, as if to cry “It’s time to rise up, Man!”
I’m ready to be. Ready to be who I am, toting madness and everything. I've made being and madness inseparable; two rivers leading to a dim grown sea that ebbs and flows with me, my and mine.
When will the truth triumph over self? Have I gone too far? Too far gone or come too close?
She answers, they're identical.
© 2011 by mark prime
# by Michelle - August 4, 2011 at 5:50 PM
:) :)
# by Mark Prime - August 5, 2011 at 12:35 AM
;>)