Insanity is not a want of reason. <br />It is reason’s overgrowth, a calculating kudzu. <br /> <br />Explaining why, in two-ton manifesti, thinkers sally forth <br />with testaments and pipe bombs. Heaven help us: <br /> <br />spare us all your meaningful designs. Shine down or <br />shower forth, but (for the earthling’s sake) ignore <br />all prayers followed by against, or for. Teach us to bear <br /> <br />life’s senselessness, our insignificance, and more; <br />let’s call that sanity. The terrifying prospect isn’t some <br />escapist with old-fangled novels, fond of comfort, munching sweets— <br /> <br />it is the busy hermeneut, so serious <br />he’s sour, intent on making <br />meaning of us all, and bursting <br />from the tower to the street.<br /><br />Heather McHugh<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-the-tower/
