Fragments of Madness and Sanity

Fragments of Madness and Sanity 2-25-02 My mind seems to lie in pieces on the floor - shattered perceptions - bitter truth revealed. The pain of revelation grabs my aching heart in a tight steel-cold grip that will alone cannot break. Silently suffering in agony I try to recapture sanity and fend off the encroaching dark, but fall instead into the pit. Here no light may shine - all hope is vainly lost. 2-26-02 Voices cry out from the abyss - abject fear grips my soul as I recognize my own echo's wailing. The sounds strike with force sufficient to tumble me about like the rag doll I have become. The rocks are hard and jagged - gashing my bare feet into bleeding ribbons - the flesh dangling like decorative fringe. Pain no longer has a speakable measure. My attention centers on a single point of light that flickers afar - threatening to go out. But I concentrate my remaining will and reach for that one bright spot in this dismal nexus of gloom. Even in the depths of living hell the spark of Hope is strong and beckons with its radiant glow. 2-27-02 I envision soft grass and blue sky - the river bank an inviting sojourn. but it does not last for long. The river runs red with blood - the grass is dry, the sky dark. Dismembered bodies pile up on the bank - a horrific flotsam of gore. The Hutu and Tutsi eke out their mutual pact of vengeance, and the innocent pay the price of misguided and irrational pride - all a part of this hell on Earth. This horrifying scene repeats itself - only the places and names change but the resulting devastation and human carnage remain the same. Nothing can assuage the deep pain and yet even here hope holds on. 2-28-02 Dawn comes again, none too soon, else I had succumbed to despair. In the cool light of morning sanity once more surfaces to breathe and renew hope's dwindled spark. The pit recedes in a dream memory, but does not vanish from my psyche. Lurking ever in close proximity, the abyss waits for its next chance to infuse me in its dark depths. What nightmares can I expect as madness then washes o'er me? Images of my imagination barely compare with those horrors I daily see on the electronic eye. Reality strikes terror into me, and fantasy feeds my deepest fears. Sometimes in the depths of anguish the only solace seems to end life itself - but that would mean surrendering. My will continues to rely on my heart's ability to deny. Let Satan do his damned best - my soul will withstand his every test! Written February 28th, 2002 © on Feb 28 2002 09:32 AM PST, Heinz Scheuenstuhl    0 • 10