the Paradox

the paradox





playing with square circles
and cubical spheres
a barren fruit tree
yields baskets of pears

my abundant dreams
gave birth to nightmares
i spat on my joys
and welcomed my tears

and what i thought blessings
now was my curse
and what once was last
now became first

for even day’s dawn
yields to the night
for one must be blind
to gather one’s sight

for what i have learned
life feeds you confusion
that all of my truths
were but my delusion

for that sacred closet
has not no locks
and there is no door
to The Paradox





~ wsp ~


~ U N I R 1 ~


© 2008 : William S. Peters, Sr.