Edge of Madness

Somewhere out in the darkest night,
madness lies in wait–
not the raving kind, not the kind
they lock away, but the kind
that hums under everything,
quiet as a pulse.

I’ve been called genius. I’ve been called fool.
But the label that stuck, the one
that felt like someone finally read
the fine print of me,
came from a friend who watched me
walk the wire and said:
you live at the edge of madness.

And I do.

Look past the waves, past the night,
past the questions nobody asks
because the answers are worse
than not knowing.
Somewhere beyond the shadows
is the edge of something great,
and I think I might–

Walk it. Peer down.
Into the swirling thoughts
I haven’t met yet,
the melodies that hum
just below conscious hearing,
the madness that doesn’t destroy
but illuminates.

Here at the edge, the view steals breath.
The wind goes quiet. The trees refuse to bend,
standing lifeless and defiant
like they’re daring the world to end
without them.

It’s just one step.
You’re already there.
Just heed the truths
you’re reluctant to bear.