A Madman's Memoir

A Madman's Memoir

They see me often with the Sun and the Moon,

But when asked say they know me not.

They see all of me, but knows not my name,

I say, without a name, would I not be the same.

I speak out my heart, and they call me mad.

Bemused am I as I see them bear grief in joy and smile when sad.

Many a time did they make me an offer.

Could be one among them, a tongue to my mind if I can lend.

Musings of thine, they call it ecstasy.

And that in mine, relate to utter lunacy.

Display of order raise them to the level of a supreme being.

While breaking the same I see them elate with overbearing supremacy.

Utterances that are loudest are deemed to be truth.

Riots spark religious consciousness more than the ostentatious prayers.

The infinite one foolishly confined within the walls.

I pain to agree, I too was one alike long before I was mad!

The God is within but they bang the bell to awaken the all-pervading.

And when rectitude yields to deceit, they trade with God for fortune.

Delusive yearning make them yield to the shackles of unending desires.

And I too was alike, a while before I had gone mad.

They rot when dead, but love to carve in stone their grandeur.

Illusive borders restrict the steps, but what about those with wings.

What lies next none knows but plans are made for eternity.

I admit, I too did the same till I was named a man terribly gone mad.

Madness enthralls me more as I see their vague display of humanity.

Pets fed with care while the hungry man keeps gazing.

The same tailed pet made a darling as it knows not word to respond.

I love being mad, as I was just the same before I had gone mad.

Spent childhood in a picturesque town that awakened the poet in me.

Environed by the hills, played in the rain with friends as one.

But now more books on climate and humanity written, when all is lost.

I laugh at it all, and so they call me the bastard having gone mad.