The Cloth Of Sanity (Poetry)

The cloth of sanity is worn thin
raw edges fraying —
what once was smooth is creased
by care and pain.
So many mends over the years —
well-patched with praying —
will never make its fabric
strong again.

The wear and tear of daily life
has roughed its pattern —
snagged and pulled a multitude
of threads
unravelling the careful weave so holes
gradually happen
where stitches break and slowly
damage spreads.

The warp and weft of reason snaps
with constant stretching —
friction worries — every fibre feels
its subtle drag
until old days of spotless linen glow
in dreams — past forgetting
now the mental cloth’s all torn —
become a rag.