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
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.