Mind's Tales

Madness

It was long ago,

When I did walk

Along the shores of lands unknown.

On those beaches I did meet

A man of little wealth.

He staggered on bare feet

Across the rocks.

His clothing hung about him

As grey rags.

Black and grey hair and beard

Obscured his vision.

He did not see me,

Not at first.

His quiet mutterings reached me

On a silent breeze.

"A method...

I have one, yes...

To my madness, yes..."

Indeed.

There was a method to his madness,

Though I did not know it then.

"Excuse me, dear sir!"

A hail I would soon regret.

His eyes were but green pools,

Devoid and endless.

'Twas as if he had no soul.

Never in my time had I felt such a

Terror as his eyes on mine.

"Are you lost?

Are you looking for something?"

I asked him.

It was hard,

So very, very hard,

Not to run.

"Lost? Yes!

Looking? Yes!

A method...

You see?

To my madness..."

His words rushed from his lips,

His voice was haggard.

Indeed.

There was a method to his madness,

Though I did not know it then.

"Seek you anything?"

He asked me.

My fear was temporarily forgotten,

His sudden lucidity startling my answer from me.

"Why, yes!

I am seeking peace of mind."

The man nodded wisely,

And when his gaze returned to me,

My terror returned thrice over.

This man was mad,

In every sense of the word.

"But of course,

Mind at peace...

The method...

Yes, to my madness..."

Indeed.

There was a method to his madness,

Though I did not know it then.

"The method to your madness?

You are making no sense!"

Why I spoke, I do not know,

But his response made a vile sort of sense.

"Death!"

He screamed it,

A sound not meant to come from human lips.

Like nails on chalkboards,

He screamed.

"Death!

My madness...

Yes, the method...

Death...

Death..."

Indeed.

There was a method to his madness,

And I knew it then.

He was a killer,

Death, his method.

His madness.

It was then that I walked away,

And prayed that he did not follow.