7 January 2007, 6:25 PM
There’s this phenomenon I’d guessed
existed in theory- another set of eyes
would most assuredly deny realities;
evince insanity of all the parts
which can or cannot bear the grating
of the wind, or worse reveal
the meadow and the sycamore,
the butterflies and flowers as figments
of my making; all that I have
come to claim for truth, as farce.
Stormy skies let loose their boon;
clarity none too soon and slate-
blue ships arrive to wash away
deception’s residual sway.
They are mad, each in his way
or her own, they are mad,
and I alone escaped to tell the tale.
And I alone have found another,
saner set of eyes to peer into the madness;
tell me it is madness, though I often
have such difficulty seeing it as such.