Poetry in Narrative.

Stark Raving Mad.

Stark Raving Mad.

Such a joy it was being carried away in a dream.

Onto a mountain steep where loyalty reigned supreme.

Out past blue sapphire colored waters the eyes went.

Gazing emerald seas of endless trees and a covenant.

I'll forever relish sand in my toes with crashing waves,

and fantastic beasts swimming into the coming days.

And the feeling of tall grass on my back as dew glistens,

in sunlight, off of flowers that earned their admission.

Resolved as it existed in snowy peaks now portrayed.

And that scene moved round faster than any could say.

For there on that hilltop keep, those clouds grew serene.

And as for being carried, It would be no more a dream.

Adored by a mothers score was only fleeting to the eye,

because there was no other, that could show me how to cry.

Who else but a true teacher; my mind; being both good and bad.

Could hear the emotions of excitement in the stark raving mad.

Of that kingdom and its lot, in melody they happily barked.

As the setting sun went low, down past the horizon and parked.

And then a temporary ceiling was lit up in a twinkling display.

It winked down upon me on that mountain, far and away.

If harmony were a breath and death were something to breathe,

then I'd learned nothing at all and couldn't have survived to see.

That glowing for a single second was a spark another may need.

Then there and then I realized that this worlds heart, does bleed.

I watched as it cried, showering stars from the heavens above,

and felt total richness inside as I whispered back to it with love.

My dream, and its captivated audience only grew in size.

To what end is it emanating from, this bewildering prize?

A gift and a dream brought out of remembrances side!

But the raving, they claimed, could never see on high tide.

And as it approached they chuckled, "We see it all to well.

We were the dreamers, those lovers that heard the Belle.

"She was beautifully gratuitous and let us live out our dreams,

being thoughtful and kind, even when our hearts would scream.

But, now who's jesting, oh and I might as well add;

If you can dream on a mountain, you might also be mad."

A.o.R.