My mind, a cathedral
caught in a hurricane’s rage,
vaulted highs that scrape the stars,
an impossible height.
Galaxies hum in the veins
of my manic delight,
a universe cracked open
in the thrill of the flight.
But as the tempest turns,
so too does my fate,
from euphoria’s pinnacle
to a hollowed-out state.
Under the rubble of my soaring spires,
the silence I begged for
now chokes and mires.
The crash shakes through the broken stone,
in the aftermath,
I find myself alone.
Mania’s fire leaves embers that sear,
the ash a reminder
of everything I fear.
In my cathedral’s rise and fall,
I dance on the edge of a manic thrall.
The highs are a hymn, a powerful swell,
the lows a requiem,
a descent into hell.
Between these walls,
I lose and find my way,
a pilgrim in the cycle of night and day.
Mania burns with a brilliant flare,
lighting up dreams pulled from thin air.
But the beauty of fire is a temporary light,
and in its dying glow,
I brace for the night.
Here in the wreckage of storms passed by,
I gather the pieces where my hopes lie.
Building again as the cycle renews,
in the cathedral of contrasts,
I pick my bruise.