Method to Our Madness by Rich Herrick

Method to Our Madness

The years drudge on, day by day,
slowly soaring upon the wings of time.
The seconds dance their merry dance,
while upon our lives play the fingers of chance.

A captured moment is a cherished find,
for the next is oblivious to the last,
forming a pattern to erratic to comprehend,
but consistently indicating a sorrowful trend.

A trail of broken hearts fills the past,
a history where shattered dreams are common place,
What's done is done, it's been said
but sad times, in thought, come to haunt again.

Cold, empty eyes leave no trace
of the pain scarred eternal upon the soul,
like an out stretched hand can't capture the light
when darkness reigns deep from sight.

And into the great unknown, none go bold,
for the door to the future lies just out of touch.
And the mind stirs up nightmares for us to see,
making ghosts of the past shadow what's to be.

And you stand and look at me thus,
to show contempt at my heartlessness.
and remark at the dark views I cast so much.
In reply, I offer the dilemma of us:

Our memories are weapons against our sadness,
and the method to our madness.