Madness to the Method
It did not come from mode of method,
nor from the charted mind.
But sprung from a will-o'-the-wisp
spark in the blind spot shadow,
of the brain, disentangled and drifting.
The idea slipped in sideways,
from the periphery of focus,
when attention was distracted,
by the flit of eyes glancing,
in other ways on other days,
For the more you look,
the less likely you are to see,
the brilliant gems lying
invisible to naked eyes,
blinded by the wont-of-desire
for discovery, to stare intensely
at the target, and not look away.
But, it takes a touch of madness,
to notice strange occurrences,
in the clutter and debris of
random observations falling
like ticker-tape from
still-born mode-of-method showers,
of collected failures-to-disprove.
It takes the madness of
serendipity for one
to take potluck picks
in the box of tricks
smart minds often miss,
to pick winners
with happenstance.
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