Am I insane? – the question
remains enigmatic, but that
I think of it has relevance
for sanity; I never claimed
to be free of the pain that
ameliorates visionary reality.
I create; it is a state of perpetual
being, not something that acts
at the turn of a switch or the
surge of mysterious feeling.
I have been at the birth of
moments where the urge to cry
out in a blaze of ecstasy inflames
all senses equally and there are
dolorous times neither few nor
far between when I have died
the mean and unpleasant
literary death – literally.
That I rise from the charred and
stinking corpse of yesterday’s
defeat spun fresh and ethereal
woven in the air of dreams is
small wonder. I am the phoenix
of my imaginings.
© 24 May 2007, I.D. Carswell
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