To Look Into The Sun

Sanity is a cozy lie. - Susan Sontag

in the stark, overrated perception of my sanity

i go where others dare not

peering through windows of souls

'neath rocks of hardened hearts

strumming strings of undeniable, undesirable truth

curled whisps of a straightjacketed flute dancing in my head

nothing to prove

in winters of discontent and summers of satiation

the mandolin my muse

whichever road i travel and choose

i've stared death in the eye and lived to tell

breathing secrets of the deepest woods

sailing 'pon up and down swells of cresting joy and ocean wrath 

in and out with the tide

dancing a jig in hospital johnnies

sleeping in churchyards

surviving on other people's refuse

discarding their other stuff

i am music

music is me

so just let me be

the nightingale's song is but reason enough

Author's Note

"If one listens to the faintest but constant suggestions of his genius, which are certainly true, he sees not to what extremes, or even insanity, it may lead him; and yet that way, as he grows more resolute and faithful, his road lies." - Thoreau

Reviews

[Lara]

This piece certainly strikes a chord. In some curly, tangential way I think of William Blake's grain of sand holding all of heaven. And there's countless grains of sand gathered just here in the runners of my sliding door, let alone the world over. And you know there's gotta be a lot of hell scattered about, too! ("prowls the earth like a lion")

Alas, "for everything there is a season..."

[Pete]

as the good book says, "there is nothing new under the sun".