Dementia's Asylum
Dementia's Asylum
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'Alone'
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I lov'd, I lov'd alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life - was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
-Edgar Allan Poe
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Voices in my head
...as if you care
Pudding and Mr. Rogers time
...movies, music, and mayhem
Valium
...what makes me happy
Delusions of Grandure
...things to believe in
Whispers in the Darkness
...voices outside my head
Hast thou ever raised thy mind to the consideration of EXISTENCE,
in and by itself, as the mere act of existing?
Hast thou ever said to thyself thoughtfully, IT IS! heedless in
that moment, whether it were a man before thee, or a flower, or a
grain of sand? Without reference, in short, to this or that
particular mode or form of existence?
If thou hast indeed attained to this, thou wilt have felt the
presence of a mystery, which must have fixed thy spirit in awe and
wonder.
The very words, There is nothing!
-STC
