A paradox in a box

Is this life perfect or a paradox

Parallel to a tainted depiction of reality,

We can slumber away in dreams

But of course eventually

We all have to awake to some sort of reality.

While existing has become our religion;

Abundance our faith.

Draping tarnished smiles

To please beings who could care less
Of our well being.

Housed in boxes built around the norm

We gravitate to.

Less contentment, more change

This is the motive we gratify.

No one will know pain that is

Misinterpreted as a lack of gain.

We’ve all traveled through many lanes,

Navigated over several plains.

Fields fertilized with dreams,

When will we land and dance between

The deep embrace of faith

In the face of those who drown

Out our pride in ridicule?

Yes this paradox of a box has become brighter.

Someone turn the lights off.

Can the master still see us in the dark?

Can he see the silhouette of our shadows;

Dancing in dark corners, taking part of
Forbidden fruit.

The question remains

Was this the path we were planted on.

Were all days meant to be clouded with doubt.

Boxing in rings against all


Who will change their position

Seek a mission without being confined

To four sides.

And the only way is up

The only way is out;

Surplus will suffice until life has vanished,

And we will still be here boxing

Out any memory of living on the outside.


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