The Asylum
The Asylum
Was it the absence
of the music that made it
so strange that his body
was swaying to its rhythm?
Was he yearning for the lilt
of a timeless dance
that had long since
surrendered its tempo?
Lurking in the asylum grounds,
madness sometimes ceased to be
a refuge from reality,
leaving him to become incarnate
with its insentient lucidity.
Can a madman find sanity
in such a place?
Where reason, inexorably numb,
might invert his mind?
Could no one share
his burden of conscience
or plumb the duality
of his indelible sorrow?
No one ever dared,
not even his keepers.
Copyright © John Newlin | Year Posted 2018
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