I am on the verge of being mad.
\nMaking up my world,
\nrefusing to acknowledge gears
\nand hard shouts,
\nwaking up to the harness of my duties,
\nobeying the rules,
\nselling the air and water,
\nand taxing the change in my pocket.
\nBeing mad has advantages.
\nThere is nothing more useless
\nthan the face of a puppy,
\nthe smile of a child,
\na girl trailing fingers
\nthrough the sun in her hair.<\/p>\n
Being mad they are more priceless
\nthan gold.
\nThey are the sleep and wakefulness
\nof a clear heart.
\nI dare the sky to fall,
\nand it laughs and falls,
\nand covers everything with ink at night,
\nrainbows at noon.
\nThe sky is a robe of miracles.
\nThe earth has big eyes called volcanoes.
\nMountains are the veins of old age,
\nrivers, the streams of its eternal youth.<\/p>\n
Am I not compos mentis
\nnot to be cruel?
\nI do not count and wager,
\nor lose myself arguments.
\nI am soft as a raisin,
\nand doorways are invitations.
\nSanity is a straight road
\nwhere people get lost.
\nMiracles are useless if you are not mad.
\nI\u2019d rather be mad
\nand go off to work,
\nlistening to voices in the rain,
\nthe roar of hurricanes
\nin my heart.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I am on the verge of being mad. Making up my world, refusing to acknowledge gears and hard shouts, waking up to the harness of…<\/p>\n