In the stillest hour of the night, as I lay half asleep, my seven selves sat together and thus conversed in whisper:
First Self:
Here, in this madman,
I have dwelt all these years, with naught to do but renew his pain by day and recreate his sorrow by night.
I can bear my fate no longer, and now I rebel.
Second Self:
Yours is a better lot than mine, brother, for it is given to me to be this madman's joyous self.
I laugh his laughter and sing his happy hours, and with thrice winged feet I dance his brighter thoughts.
It is I that would rebel against my weary existence.
Third Self:
And what of me, the love-ridden self, the flaming brand of wild passion and fantastic desires?
It is I the love-sick self who would rebel against this madman.
Fourth Self:
I, amongst you all, am the most miserable, for naught was given me but odious hatred and destructive loathing.
It is I, the tempest-like self, the one born in the black caves of Hell, who would protest against serving this madman.
Fifth Self:
Nay, it is I, the thinking self, the fanciful self, the self of hunger and thirst, the one doomed to wander without rest in search of unknown things and things not yet created; it is I, not you, who would rebel.
Sixth Self:
And I, the working self, the pitiful labourer, who, with patient hands, and longing eyes, fashion the days into images and give the formless elements new and eternal forms-it is I, the solitary one, who would rebel against this restless madman.
Seventh Self:
How strange that you all would rebel against this man, because each and every one of you has a preordained fate to fulfil.
Ah! could I but be like one of you, a self with a determined lot!
But I have none,
I am the do-nothing self, the one who sits in the dumb, empty nowhere and nowhen, while you are busy re-creating life.
Is it you or I, neighbours, who should rebel?
When the seventh self thus spake the other six selves looked with pity upon him but said nothing more; and as the night grew deeper one after the other went to sleep enfolded with a new and happy submission.
But the seventh self remained watching and gazing at nothingness, which is behind all things.
From - "The Madman"
