The Ledger of Madness

As something seen over a molehill
Akin to a whisper and not quite a scream
One organ plays and one soul begs
There that saying has gone through
Beginning to suffering has finally gone through.

There it was then, but a good book?
Was that what was said?
The personal fell shy of the focus of this visit
If only a Wisp of light at the end of the proverbial tunnel
That path so very unclear once the night's darkness began to pass
There was nothing but a hint, if only part of a view

What would be a hint remains unseen
As the mound becomes a mountain of knowledge
The book is opened and only fear emits
Nothing but sadness, gloom, and prestige wrapped in doom
Death knells never sounded so sweet
As the one who is wistful can only so grin
The next page is turned and that too ensues

Compounding the other things
What can be the thought of imagination?
The next view or perhaps that varying angle is instead
Hip drop to the side, carry the cold and colossus of fright
There on the back with a tumble one will fall

As what comes, is what passes and that is soon lost
All is gone
All is red
All is bound in black pages
All is in ink or distinct color

The blind shall touch it
The deaf shall read it
The fingerless shall breathe it
The scentless shall still fear it

When they open the ledger of Madness.