Man Cannot Live Without Madness Poem by Arun Maji

Who calls me?
Who?

Silent.
All is silent but
Time flies towards past,
And a heron hovers overhead.
In that dark deep silence
I utter the word "futile".

Futile is life of mine
Futile is life of all mortal being.
Futile is all this human work
Knowledge
Intelligence
And everything.

Why not?
Neither human diligence
Nor human wisdom relieves human suffering.
Neither human victory over Mars
Nor human piety relieves human suffering.

In fact, futile is too gentle a word
To describe futility of human life.

If everything is so futile
Then why do I live?
Why does human live?

A deep despair grips my heart
And tear my soul.
With my teary eyes
I wonder-
Who am I?
Who is the Earth? The Sun? The river?
Are they my cousin or sister-in-law?
Moon is my lover?
Or my grandfather's?
Who was that gypsy boy
Who slept with The Empress Nur-Jahan?
Was that I?
How old was I then?
And Empress?
Who kissed before?
Me? Or the empress?
How many roses did I draw
In that golden valley between her thighs?
How many times I kissed her sweet juicy lips?

My eyes light up.
My imagination goes wild
And blossoms like newly blossomed flowers.
And then my heart start dancing
And soul singing.

O God
Man can live without you
But man cannot live without madness.
Madness. Deep madness.
Dark madness. Dangerous madness.
Man must live as mad as
Severely thirsty sexual organ of hungry young woman.

© Arun Maji
Painting: Portaels