Song of a Madman

Honesty is a currency that I lack as I write this. Truth is a blazing torch that dispels darkness, but it can also burn your eyes. The poet can pour out his soul and expose his nakedness because he can hide behind the wall of fiction. But the essayist bares his soul without any protection. A good essay is a dangerous glimpse into the writer’s mind. And I cannot write the truth now. It pains me, but I can’t. I hide behind walls and cling to my rags. I am ruled by modesty and shame. I spin words like a spider, making a thick and tangled web. Who can understand the song of a madman?

A scream in outer space is soundless. So what’s the point? Perhaps a scream is uncontrollable and natural even when you know it will be noiseless. Or maybe it’s an act of defiance. I think I would scream even if no human heard me. A voice shouting in the desert might be answered. “Who am I? Where am I going?” Sing, sing to the heavens and strike the earth for you will be heard. Sing in the tongue of angels and pray for understanding.

The darkness is at the door, and the darkness is in the house, and the darkness is in the mirror. And I fear the darkness. So I scream. I throw back my head and shred my vocal cords. Sing the song of the madman and beg for understanding. Scream.

What am I trying to say? If I wanted to be clear then I would be clear. But I don’t. I’ve chosen ambiguity because it is safer and kinder. I have a sacred trust to my readers so I want to say that I am in good mental and spiritual health. Do not let my rambling trouble you. Writing like this helps me deal with life. My strength and joy is (and forever will be) in Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior.

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