Delirium.

It came upon me like a shadow

and the whispers that followed said,

"Delirium -- thank God." Thank God:

it was only delirium. No;

it wasn't.

It was the music –

I needed to hear the music,

to hear even the water on the stove sing

as it boiled.

The pause between songs

drove me into a terrible, disjointed synchronicity;

an endless question:

how long was I able to suffer?

Now

I am

breathless --

slow to be quick,

and I can't control the way

my mind likes to wander

while I methodically embed myself

into the notes I hear,

but if you ask me

for the meaning of my life,

I can smile.