The Sermon

When the psychiatrist entered the room
The sermon was already underway.
The music of the patient's voice
Had the nurses hypnotized.
Mouths agape, they listened,
Convinced, yes, that this was insanity,
But allowing that phantom, doubt,
To create shadows on their certitude.

"Insanity," spoke the patient,
"Is the last pure portal into God's
Hidden chambers. Madness is only madness
Because it can not be divinity.
God is inviting me in,
Not seeing that which I do:
That is, that there isn't room enough
For the both of us.
It is that hand of God pulling me in
To a space I cannot fit
That makes me mad.
And that which I see
Is closer to God than that which
Sane men see. So,
I have choices."

The nurses and doctor were silent,
Waiting for his final words.
The patient glanced from face to face
And, like a new life being born
From his breast, laughed a childish laugh.