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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."

Sunday, August 25, 2013


High above in my den
There’s a man.
Has his teeth and his hair
Spoilt by ages of despair.
Finds it hard to really care
About all that he loves,
A love so rare.

So you must share his pain,
But you know there’s no way.
But again,
You’ve seen him flail
His color-flutter ideas
About what he sees when he’s insane.

How he jumps from wrong to right
And makes it without a fright!
How you tie him tight!
And despite,
He digs his way out right through the night,
All the way up to the sky!

Find your heart following him
For every path is his.
He knows so many roads
That he’s lost within.
He’s seen so much
Everything seems unseen.

If ever he picks a way,
Shun, turn and run.
If there’s another way,
That’s the only one
Or everything must come undone.

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