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Poem

All roads are closed, and planes aren't flying;
The boats have all sailed, and I'm left here, dying.
But there's one route left, one final way home:
An escape into madness, but I journey alone.

In madness color waits to light a colorless world.
It's a painting splashed with music, words that dance and swirl.
In madness I can love you 'though you never speak my name;
And life becomes a fairy tale, an endless happy game.

So dare I make this journey into freedom--into pain,
Where no one else dares follow lest he be called insane?
Though seductive and inviting, it's a risky trail to ride,
For there's no guarantee of exit once I've stepped inside.

With the churning of the days and the passing of the weeks,
The birth and death of seasons, so earth its cycles keeps.
So too this time of madness, this all-pervasive night
Will whirl away on whimsy and, in retrospect, seem trite.

But always I'm aware, through good times and the rest,
It waits for me with fangs en garde, its poison to inject.
Madness, I denounce you 'though I know you lie in wait;
And one day I'll surrender to my destiny, my fate.

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