Edge of Insanity

I'm standing on the edge of insanity,
Two ways there are before me.
Way Reality is cover with nails and glass,
Way Dementia is a swift river, hard to catch, hard to see.

To lose the mind would be to ease the suffering,
If lost the mind is lost.
Perhaps, if strong swimmer you may be,
Your thoughts will not be the cost.

To take the pains of living
Is to keep that which is yours.
Should you dive into river Insanity
It would be hard to find yourself once more.

The river it flows so quickly,
Slip, and you will be swept away.
But then, why shouldn't you?
She would take you far from the fray.

Every obstacle in your life
Will be a stumble bringing you closer to the edge,
The edge of the banks of Sane,
Where through reality, pain is fed.

As I walk towards the river
I see many others do the same.
I hear a voice and see a loved memory,
I change my mind again.

Not two steps along the way to reality,
Again I feel the stabs of pain
That comes with being real.
I reconsider going back the way I came.

But see those who are swept away,
They seem to be in torment,
They cannot clear their minds to see
The gifts that God has sent.

Yet one by one, loved ones leave,
And should we slip, slide down the banks,
Of the river folly, we may grab at handfuls of reality,
Hidden in the mud and sand.

Such things do slip from the fingers,
It is like clutching at air, or touching the stars.
But to catch upon a memory much loved,
The memory kept pure shall keep you as you are.

So we climb wearily back up the slope,
'So close' says a haunting voice 'but next time.'
As we will ourselves to carry our burdens once more,
'There shall be no salvation, bid farewell to thy mind.'