The Madness of The Mind
“I keep pondering the significance of this place. What do you think it might utter if it could speak?”
“In the bitter seats of the night, in this place is where you should loosen your mind’s pondering of such things. Rather than using such a place to ponder.”
“If I cannot ponder this, then what else is there left to ponder? What else holds such mystery to me than this?”
“The ruins of an old mortuary? My friend you are clearly mad.”
“Mad? Mad is but a relative term old friend.”
“Relative to what?”
“To who you are.”
“You ponder significance of places. What is the significance of you?”
“Of me? Of my mind you ask?”
“Of your life.”
“My life, the watcher of the night, pondering the reason behind my addiction to this place, the salvation I find in such a damp, sadistic beauty. Is that what you ask?’
“Precisely, what is the significance of that?”
“Don’t you see, that is exactly what I was myself pondering just a moment ago. The significance of this place holds the significance of my own self.”
“This place is your secret solace.”
“Hmm. The secret importance behind this is where I will find the reason for my own existence.”
“And what if there is no reason?”
“There must always be a reason my old friend.”
“Why would you think that? If there were a reason then wouldn’t you assume that in all of this pondering you do, you would find it?”
“That is why I still ponder, because I have not yet found the reason.”
“Have you yet stopped to ponder why you have not found the reason?”
“Perhaps this is my reason, to discover reason.”
“The bitter night is not what will answer your questions dear friend.”
“Perhaps old friend, I am simply mad.”
“Perhaps my loyalty to you has driven me mad as well.”
“Then we are both mad and this debate will answer no questions of either of ours.”
“Then let us sit, in the cold, bitter night and watch ourselves decay until reason floods our gaping mouths and unlocked eyes.”
“Let us drowned in our madness until pondering is no longer promising.”
“Old friend. Let me ponder that.”
