Every now and then comes a crazy

Who calls an end to the grand legacy

Gifted it is though too powerfully

So much so it succumbs to it eventually

The little flame burns right from the dawn

Burns blazingly bright till the end of the morn

As noon strikes it burns brighter still

Fueled by its own high-spirited will

Its powers so great, so out of the way

But fate has wicked plans in play

As heat of the noon births a passion bloom

Dressed in red, the sky signals the drawing doom.

Too great any weapon never served no master faithfully

If only they’d known better, the fallen laugh ruefully.

Cruel this sight, from the leaves of history that repeats

The very blade that won it battles, the very master it cheats. 

And down and under and buried beneath its own very mind

Its broken bits of spirit, the Crazy’s limp carcass you’ll find. 

But stubborn that it is, 

it refuses to go silent into the night. 

With tooth and nail, and the traitor blade,

It promises to put up a One Final Fight!

Feels like you’ve read this before? Yes, my previous post the ‘Crazy of the Legacy’ had those very same lines in the first verse.

But that documentary on Marcus Aurelius that had inspired that poem had inspired a grander idea, a concept for another poem that was closer to my heart, my own story. But now matter matter what I never could finish it until this afternoon. The ideas, the verse were right there and yet, out of my reach.

Then I happened upon a documentary on Franz Kafka, Friedrich Nietzsche and Fyodor Dostoevsky that spurred on the rest of the unfinished idea. It was fun working with alongside the ghosts so all the crazy kids.

Hope you have just as much fun reading this!