Man Cannot Live Without Madness

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