Embracing Madness, or Madness is Bracing
Without embracing madness,
the numbing mundane intensity of life would prevail,
and we shrivel from the dry lament,
turn to dust from all we meant,
and settle for dreamless plights.
The mundane is like a disease,
an infection of the soul, a dark indolent malaise
that breaks even the most aspiring lights,
burying us in the refuse of lost thought,
regretting all the dreams that aught be dreamed aloud.
Madness relents on real,
breaks the seal and passion given flight of fancy, ensues,
with or without muse, an extravagance of thought,
a clarity of weightless dreams, inspired by freedom itself,
delving into the dark and unknown plumes
of imagination.
Madness is the edge of reason,
where none sees or wants redemption, clarity or ascension,
just the being of minds extension,
the relenting of all the petty and repetitive rhymes of living,
lost to whims inconsequential, or evidential.
So I embrace the madness, the absurd and pointless paradigms
that lead us not to ends,
but rather away from what expectation commends,
to revel in moments like they’re butterflies,
ragged and aimless tracks of perfection’s path.
Let not reason prevent a good old fashion breakdown,
when madness beckons a heart and soul
to find freedom in expression.
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Tony, surely most writers suffer from at least a little madness. It is what makes their work unique, and in fact what drives us to try to make a career out of this. A well written verse as always.
Thanks John, and I agree, without it our imaginations would be stifled. Glad you appreciated it my friend.
Your last stanza summed it up for me, to the brink of breakdown, I’ve felt in the clutches of madness from time to time, especially the past 17 years. I never thought that a ruined marriage, loss of children and career could keep me alive, I fought as a survivor, but at a cost of loss to my thinking mind. Yet it wasn’t until 2007 my sanity was questioned when I started to write. Out of nowhere a Muse found me and offered me a choice. I took it and haven’t stopped writing since, I truly believe a tinge of madness rests in all of our wretched souls. The beauty of it though is that it brings out life experiences that I can now lay down on white, before that I never could. I know of lessor men who couldn’t keep sane after such a wretched loss as I suffered, they took their lives, somehow I was saved. For what, I still ask myself that question to this very day as I push forward towards the golden door.
Kindred souls my friend, writing too has saved me from God only knows what. Perhaps all writers live at the edge of an abyss, perhaps its obligatory. In any case, glad you related to my thoughts. Cheers!
“Madness is the edge of reason,” and so it is, but you make it so much more focused; so much more reality related. There is a fine line between the two. I wonder – once the line is crossed, do we ever, or can we ever go back? Great piece, Tony!
Perhaps not, I’m certainly not going to cross that line, but living on the edge is familiar. Glad you appreciated the thoughts Bill, and thank you for reading and your kind words.
Your last stanza, Tony, hit home with me. Yesterday I had my “good old fashioned breakdown” and the “madness beckons a heart and soul to find freedom in expression” is what I found – to make me a stronger person, able to face the pain, express and come so very close to the edge. Remarkable!
Glad you appreciated my thoughts and being a writer, one cannot but relate. Thanks Phyllis