Poetry, notes, and drawings by William Michaelian
Masks so many masks, it hurts to see, never to be free again...
Which brings to mind Gibran:You ask me how I became a madman. It happened thus: One day, long before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all my masks were stolen—the seven masks I have fashioned and worn in seven lives—I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting, “Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves.”Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their houses in fear of me.And when I reached the market place, a youth standing on a house-top cried, “He is a madman.” I looked up to behold him; the sun kissed my own naked face for the first time. For the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I cried, “Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks.”Thus I became a madman.And I have found both freedom and safety in my madness; the freedom of loneliness and the safety from being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in us.But let me not be too proud of my safety. Even a thief in a jail is safe from another thief.
I wish it...hope, I've barely have any, and I should for there is so much to come to overcome this tearing of my heart...thank you
The last temptation of Christ. Even He, was not safe ~
Such is the grace of all that lies hidden in plain view....(welcome home ~)
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