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.