A Poem entitled "Crazy"

If you have asked yourself the question“why am I so crazy”?the answer is simple.You are crazy with grief.Deep down inside,you are like one attending a funeral,tearing your clothes,bewailing your loss.“But what have I lost, to be so crazy?”you ask.Something infinitely precious,something you love so ferociouslythat even to remember it consciouslywould set you to rending your hair,again and again.There is a rage that attends this griefa rage at yourself, because,down in this same forgotten chamber of memory,you know that you were offered this precious thingbeyond value, and you lost it,from a moment’s inattention,or cast it aside for something more glamorous,or ignored it because it did not makepretty jingling musicthe way a child’s toy does.The world is a child’s toycompared to the majesty of thatwhich we have put away,and now, unconsciously,we grieve, and wonderwhy we are so crazy.
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