Behind Insanities Grin

On hallowed slopes of forgotten time,

dost go the sane,

and not so sane mind.

Traveling to and fro…

wrestling with the flesh…

forever doing battle with darkness

Which rises from below.

For sanity dangles

On a tiny… frayed… and slender thread,

Whilst reality

With its morbid veracity

offers up her smiling dead.

As the stacking of bones

lays heavy upon the souls of men.

they in their tangled webs

bury the truths

Of their atrocities

born of sin.

For simple is seen

As simplicity does

Whilst the mind teeters

And clings

To its makeshift Freudian dreams.

So cast not your eye,

Of haughty concern,

Lest you in your mind

Be deceived

As reality, you try to discern.

For the line between sanity and insanity is thin

And one will never know the secrets

That we all keep within.

So, tread light

On the slopes tonight

And slip not

behind insanities knowing grin.

J. Allen Wilson © 2004