Conversations on the Texture of Loss, the Wait and Pain (States of Being)

Being Beyond Colours...Flowerz in B/W/G

Of Masks and the Madman

“You ask me how I became a madman. It happened thus: One day, long before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all my masks were stolen, the seven masks I have fashioned an worn in seven lives, I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting, "Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves." 

Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their houses in fear of me. 

And when I reached the market place, a youth standing on a house-top cried, "He is a madman." I looked up to behold him; the sun kissed my own naked face for the first time. For the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I cried, "Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks." 

Thus I became a madman.”   (Kahlil Gibran, The Madman)

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