Peripheral (nineveh_rains) wrote,

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For my friend, Sonic Architect

Mania - by Jody Michael Eric Lanteigne
Mania can be like a waking dream
Where nothing may mean everything
And everything's not what it seems
Boundless faith in all that is true
A font of knowledge springs from you
Deep, so it seems, and ever flowing
Learn something new without knowing
Always on the brink of something grand/whatever it may be
Always waiting for something to happen/however impossibly
Insight deepened to new depths
Sometimes memories over which wept
One's mind goes where it is swept
The deeper you get, the more it seems saner

No matter how abstract, or how much zanier
Pulling threads of applicability, out of thin air
Or whatever available media be there
"That's mine, that's me," rings the refrain
It becomes amazing how everything
Just "fits" inside your body and your brain

Interests claimed first, then increasingly distracted
It's as if one's worries were trashed and compacted
Mental exploration amidst new connections
Brand new suppositions up for inspection
Sometimes though comes a trauma, and anger
A sensation of caution, an infection of danger
It leaps, and it rises, and just as quickly falls
Like a roaring car engine that suddenly stalls
"Why" is asked so many times its meaning is forgotten
"Where" can seem distant and disjoint
"When" becomes further and further from the point
"Who" indeed, disintegrates, into a single element
All around you comes alive/And you wonder where it went
All those times you were looking before
Magic, luck, superstition or belief
Become once again possible, once held in relief
For possibility and reality can twist and bend
'Til you don't know from your own family or your friends
They are enveloped all around/With symphonies of blended sound
And whirling pictures of their happiest times/Underlain by perceived crimes
Some petty, some grand/Some buried in the sand
Of faraway places so close you could taste them
And wish you could be there, instead of erase them
From memory, which churns
Indiscriminately burns/at the worst
At the best it lies like a pond fed by a creek
And seeping waters from underneath
And it is good enough just to be/Just to speak and just to see
And the world is not enough distraction
To justify any infraction
/Against the code of peaceful life
Of always looking at both sides of the story
Of always disbelieving ill intent
Of always trying to see as best
As on can/Joy without guilt

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