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The Madman, "Yes, three days, three centuries, three aeons. Strange they would always weigh and measure. It is always a sundial and a pair of scales."

Monday, May 25, 2009


Being me was strange,
Being here, it feels stranger—
So far away
From where I belong,
From whom I love,
From what I wanted to be,
From what I was.

This feeling
is hard to define—
far from remorse,
far from nostalgia,
far from grief.

But then—
It’s not joy,
It’s not fun,
It’s not glee.

What is it?—
I had heard about
Being numb;
I think I can
Feel it.

It was a whirlwind
That tore me from me,
Turned my world topsy-turvy
And threw me on this path.

This path takes me
I don’t know where—
It could be glory,
It could be doom,
It could be nowhere.

(Crude partings were made;
Partings are always crude
Because they bring out
The true love hidden inside
If they are refined,
There were no partings made
For no ties existed.)
This is what they call
It destroys all you plan,
All that existed,
All you believed in
And proves to you
That there is a God.

A power so potent
That your very existence
Seems worthless.

Yet, it is a loving power.
It’s looking for love
And if you give
Any sign of it,
It embraces you,
Holds your hand
And leads you
To a
Perfect Heaven

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