A reprieve from the madness
As they saw fit to call it.
An asylum of patience
Under the moon and stars.
A mould that was made
He did not fit into well.
Was treated with kindness
In a place meant to heal.
Followed around in peace
To live out his clearer days.
Yet darkness of seizures
Kept him held at bay.
He was clear of the labels
Making strides in Freedoms.
Alas, a routine of expectation
Made way for imagination.
Looking on through yonder
A view from the tower
Made better with his mind.
A space to paint azure wonders
Of vibrant rolling hills asunder
Blended into a stark town.
The madness they called it-
Came back for its master.
Observing the world
Yet departing from view
He painted his visions
Of divine ethereal strokes.
He saw colour in darkness -
As the darkness saw him.
About the Creator
VJHD
The subsistence of our lives will live on in our words, forever encapsulating our feelings.
Words are the centre point of our existence. If we never write anything down, did we ever really exist at all?
Comments (1)
Just beautiful haunting.