By Tim Okamura

Mental Margins


I’m not half as mad as they say.
If their checks were thorough,
The facts being ignored
Would prove them all wrong.

How can the measuring
Of my apparent madness,
Face any fairness against
The limits of their sanity.

What I mean to say is,
Their own mental margins
Against other horizons,
Only reveals their borders.

With all the definitions
Proposed as forms of madness,
Leaves no reason to wonder
Who could evade its wide net.

The mind being so malleable,
Changed by experiences
Or sometimes the lack thereof,
And shaped by our responses.

Around its edges can blur,
Losing its slippery grasp
On whatever is normalcy
Or the preferred pretenses.

I will not argue on sanity
With those who don’t know
The marked differences between
Truth and ignorant presumption.

And about why building
Those castles in the sky,
Is the imagination working
Of the earnestly determined.

That are unfairly judged,
When some pack up
To start heading home
After a job well done.

Or others just move right in,
The castle their new abode.
I’m not as crazy as they claim,
Having no castles of their own.

Ria 2016