Paradox, am I.

I am wholly a paradox.
I am here.
Yet, I am not.
And, as a child needs tending,
I need mending.
Caught on a line,
Stuck in time.
Today I am at odds.

Uncannily alone again.
Sifting through the leaves,
Of long dead books.
Here I am awake,
And I dream as if in sleep.
And a paradox, I am.

No shepherd to count me in,
Lost sheep, am I?
A tree top vision gives view to this thought,
But I need to be rooted.
To a feel a whole,
And not a hole.
Paradox, am I.

And thus normality is my companion.
But I don’t try to give credit,
To this common of foes.
This bringer of woes.
Traditional perhaps?
But what good is that?
Musing on a subject,
On a busy street.

I shouldn’t have come here today,
I am so far away,
From everything good.
But I can write.
And what do I write?
Trite!
Drivel!
Unassailable boredom!
Where is my tangible phrase?
My want for praise, too strong!
I am a paradox.

A modern man.
A player in life.
A sleight of hand.
We humans no nothing of life.
We question our existence till death do us part.
And in death we will ask,
What is the point in this?
But im starting to realise,
There’s not point in it anyway.
So, with this in mind,
Should I be dead?
Perhaps I already am?
Or am I asleep?
And is this the cruellest of jokes?

There is no escape.
No place to hide from all the living I have done.
My mistakes are many,
But I will not run.
Can not run.
What point in that?
Paradox, am I!

You, awake and holy.
And I, in deathly sleep, am lowly.
So, brothers and sisters of the world unite!
No juxtaposition need give fright.
No flight, please stay.
We shall celebrate our differences.
You the living, and I asleep.
In absurdity,
We weep.