Photo courtesy of Thon94rt
A little madness for the end of Summer
Is wholesome even for a beggar
The start of the end of climaxes
Where experiments felt like a dream
And life had no soft distinctions
Only dramas that became less fashionable
Fashioned by these candid hands
Where I blush in solitude for my losses
A little crazier than before
A moment lost on the edges of lifetimes
The soul condemned to be a guest
With undisputed rights to be nobody
And fame for the fickle food of anonymity
There’s no scrutiny like self-judgement
No following like bleak humility
No embarrassment like the obliteration of need
When you as a person begin to dissolve
Remember what madness taught you
The hosts depart, the friends depart, the lovers too
But some things can be treasured
In the adventure of the self
In the bleak individualism of perishing
To passion, a broken mathematics of faith.
Wuji Seshat 