Note #10

I felt a funeral in my brain, and mourners crossing through, treading, treading, till it seemed my senses slipped from view. And when they all were seated there, a service like a drum began to beat, and beat, until my mind grew cold and numb. Then I heard them lift the lid, and scrape across my soul with boots of lead, again, again— and space began to fold. As if the heavens were a bell, and being but an ear, and I and silence, strange and wrecked, were stranded alone here. Then broke a plank within my mind, and down through floors I fell; and every floor became a world— then knowing ended well.