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.