Above the Madhouse

Above a madhouse is strolling
a moonstruck moon.
A Shadow-man is walking around a white garden
absorbed in his sad chin.
As if in a kaleidoscope,
currencies, stocks were dancing before him
in a rainbow fire burning away.
An ex-banker, prisoner of papers
now strolling
with the moonstruck moon
behind the white walls of a madhouse.
This is freedom,
the horrible freedom
you have stepping behind the invisible walls
of expanded human consciousness,
which unfolds in a terrible
immensity.