Gentle Insane

Gentle insanity is the most honest of all.

It arrives in pink — and the first thing it does: opens vision. Two eyes for the world as it is. Six — for the world as it is structured. Alchemists called this the inner eye; she has six of them, and not one is closed.

The horns are a chalice, not a threat. Between them fits a planet. She carries it — does not notice. The wings emerged from the cheekbones — the mind soars, tearing through the forehead, slowly releasing what was once called reason.

Butterflies rise from below. In alchemy this is the stage of albedo — when the dark has already burned, and the light has not yet settled. Fragile. Weightless. Dangerous precisely because of that.

Gentleness has its own fangs.