All philosophers true to the study will go mad some day.
But then again, it is Normal that defines Mad.

A second of solace

Down the hideous path I tread; fighting
To ward off that Darkness that chases
It overpowers me even as I try
Hard to keep myself above
The shadow it casts
Upon my dreams
Lower than dust, my dreams
Do become as (in)significant as
A grain of sand
Within my eye, filling me with anguish
Making me cry
Trudge I did, seeking to find
Solace in that whose existence I still
Am ignorant of

As I walked the path, I took
Refuge within myself
Within that they call
The mind, then a Gust hit
My haggard face and ruffled body,
Cajoling me to believe that
It is true that I’m but a feather floating
On this gust that
Takes me upon itself

I feel myself elated; lifted by
The breeze carrying me as
I go, as water
In a river, gliding, I
The feather, dip and tumble as
The wind makes me, only
To let me land in shelter safe

 Thus, I take comfort
For those few seconds while
The breeze washes over me
And leaves me be while
I open my eyes to find that
The Darkness has me,