one for the punch.



chapter ten : this beautiful madness


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listening over and over to their disharmonies,
the rush of the breeze felt to my chest,
i grasp to breath, and the world spun,
awkward as it maybe,
the candle rekindles its flame,
a light sprung forth, and it dims again.

i felt missing.

i reached over, as i limped,
in my attempt to shelter the light,
the need for colour and warmth.

struggling, just a fight to overcome,
i held its foot, bend tightly my sore arms,
refusing to release, and not until,
a glimpse of it.

what art thy name, it asked.

then, it raised my arms,
and left,
not before it strucked me blissfully.

and i lay there motionless,
in its serenity,
i utter,
what a beautiful madness.


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