The irony of the last 2 lines, is that I've felt that way oh so many times, and each time I thought I could never feel the same way about anyone ever again, and yet I still do.
I, myself am a subject to the disorientation of madness, with which at times has read and written the most beautiful poetry but at others failed the simplest tests.
I hope your life be free of dust, And your lessons carried in your heart, For within us all there is a touch, Of madness in this wooded Ark.
