My Visit with the Madman and the Hermit

One day I came to a grassy glade near a flowing stream with a small cottage in the clearing. And upon a bench near the cottage sat two men: a madman and a hermit. I sat down beside them and the madman asked where I was from and where I was headed. "I am wandering the countryside visiting all the towns and cities that I might see the people and participate in their festivities." At this the hermit laughed and spoke of the evils of man and the sins thereof. "Man is undeserving of a heart of gold and an unselfish hand. He does not need or want the gifts of the divine and the secrets therein. No, I remain content in my cottage away from the greed and hypocrisy of the earthly world where I can pursue the Lord without interruption from the godless." And he turned and retreated into his cottage leaving the madman and me alone. At last, the madman spoke again and said, "That divinity which is in the heart of men is even like waters of this world. In one man it will be fast and flowing freely from his heart. In other men it will be as slow and quiet and still as the pond or lake which sits in stagnation and seeks neither sea nor ocean from which it springs. But even as the pond sits in silence and contentment so the river runs with frothing mouth towards its origins in the seas. And both forms are necessary to life. The one that we may have the lifeblood of the water which gathers neither dirt nor disease in its voyage to its home; and the other that we may see ourselves as we truly are and wash ourselves clean in the stillness of the morning air."

The Lost Soul


A Lost Soul am I in this storm-ridden sphere
Not at all sure if I am a man.
Is my best enough? This is not my sole fear,
But my best is still all that I am.

And what if I never find something I love
To do, or to be, or to own?
Will the mountains that faith can move, ever move,
When the faith that you hold's not your own?

And what if I never find any good friends
Who will not let me down when I fall?
The kind who won't break, and the kind who won't bend,
And the kind who will come when I call?

And what if the love that is waiting for me,
'Round the bend or just over the hill,
Is not the true love I was hoping it'd be?
What if my heart-beat is still?

Then what if I find somehing I love to do
And I do it with all of my heart;
But it's just not enough, and I can't keep it up,
And it tears my whole life apart?

Is this just me, or do all men have doubts
Of their faith, or their power, or knack?
Do their features within match their features without,
Or is there something there, that they lack?

I am the Lost Soul who sees worlds born anew
Then watches them fade out of sight;
And I still don't know what I am meant to do...
But naught lasts forever - not even the night.