In so much as I am a sinner I am also a saint.
As often I am the predator, I too am often the prey.
When I look around me and see madness, all I can do is shake my head in amazement, as I then proceed to blunder my way through my own personal experience of living.

These dualities, though not absolutes, are part of the riddle that is ourselves.

Like bumblebees, who aerodynamically are incapable of flight, so to we beings of questionable intelligence soar to new found heights… and then plummet to all time lows.

How quick we are to judge one another, how quick we are to judge ourselves.

We forgive friends and family almost out of ritual at times, we forgive strangers, and yet for some reason we can not forgive ourselves.

Nothing is ever good enough… we call it striving, climbing, growing, doing, becoming… yet in the end, we can do many things… and have nothing to show for any of it.

Nothing of true worth, nothing of truly lasting impression.

I can do nothing, we can do nothing… we are powerless, we are helpless, we are inferior to their schemes and indecisive plans. We have no voice… we have no sound bites… we can’t even get our spin to whirl in the right direction… much less any direction.

And then I snap

I plummeted, man did I plummet. I hit rock bottom and I do believe I tried to dig myself a little bit lower, just in case there was any madness I missed.

From there at the bottom of all things I looked up and there was still light. There was still a twilight of hope even though that light was so far away. So distant, so abstract, so surreal.

I clung on for dear life, and I weaved and I bobbed. I did everything in my power that would enable me to become whole. I didn’t care who got in my way, or where the journey led me, but it was truly there ahead of me.

Yet in the end, I am no mighty hero returned from a war.

I have been reforged into me, a regular Joe… with a few mild quirks and quite a number of strange ideas.

The treasures I liberated while on this crusade are plenty. The gems that glitter in bright sunlight for those crusaders of olde, are for me trinkets of wisdom and perhaps a few pearls of regret.

My coins are forged of human compassion, a finer gold you never did see. Engraved upon it’s surface the 3 phrase motto is simply I understand, I forgive you… and just as importantly… I forgive me.

I have known heroes, and villains all of which were truly quite inept, though mostly harmless. I have played both roles equally well at one time or another. In the end I see it for what it is, what it always has been… madness.

Madness evolved to solve the madness. Madness to sort through the madness of all that there is. Madness built within stories and riddles we enact in our daily lives. We gorge at the madness, we feed in the madness, we wallow in the madness and then are surprised when madness exacts its price. We say stupid things such as we had no clue that doing such a thing was a bad idea..

Such as eating the filthy lettuce on the floor couldn’t possibly make us sick or that washing your hands before a surgery was probably not a good idea, or that there was any chance coffee could be hot enough to burn you.

I have climbed out over it all, I see the vast landscape of insanity.

I laugh, pull out my Yo-yo and remember this simple truth.

Psychosis is just art waiting to happen.

Would you care to join me, up here?

I’m waiting for the sunset, this ought to be magnificent.

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