There was a time when I was sane
when I used to walk among daffodils.
When they used to open up and sing
their unadorned song from hill to hill.
There was a time when I was sane
when the trees used to sway
and the leaves used to rustle
just to lay their flowers in my way.
When I was sane,the eagles
from their eyries,used to fly high
and block the sun with their wings.
Just so it wouldn't be in my eyes.
The clouds would come at my call.
And the rain would fall only for me.
The diamond drops would break
and bedeck the ground at my feet.
Looking at the night sky,
at the star studded lanes,
I would see the moon smile at me
and know that I was sane.
I used to create new worlds
with living words from my pen.
Full of marvels they used to be.
But that was all then...
Wrapt I was in fantasy
while the world moved on.
It has moved away from me
while,impassive,I looked on.
People said I was not sane,
told me that where I lived
there were no daffodils;
No promise in how I lived.
Now that I'm cured,I see
that I'd been but a fool
who believed Horton really lived
in the Jungle of Nool.
No magic rings in reality.
No wonderland or wicked witches.
No Elves nor dragons.
Not even Quidditch and snitches.
Now cured,I see reason.
The flowers never did sing.
Nor did any eagle fly for me.
Reason came but relief did not bring.
All those words I created,
All those worlds I cherished,
All too soon yea all too soon
All have but perished.
Now I see people toiling away
in richness,poverty and ignorance.
I see children bent with age;
In their eyes,everything but innocence.
Reluctantly now moves my pen
as I try to make new worlds.
Stringing letters together it desponds.
As lacking life,they are but words.
Everything used to be wonderful
when I knew I was sane.
Now that I've seen reality,
I know I must be insane.