living inside paradox

quote:

"Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself. (I am large, I contain multitudes)"
Walt Whitman

To me, paradox
has always been
comforting. When two
large forces clash
and destroy each
other, the volume
of being lonely,
there is always
a precious moment
created,
in their wake,
of nothingness - of
no expectation, of
pure somethingness.

When the weather warms, smiles grow, footsteps on pavement accelerate, the concentration of people outside grows dramatically, more chatter is heard - birds being a morning culprit, clothes are shed, lights stay on a little bit longer, the sun arrives earlier, and kicks around a bit later as well. The poet sits at the table, in the early morning, before the city wakes, looking out the window and imagines all the windows light travels through at this moment; it weightlessly touches, illuminates, faces, toes, through curtains, gently waking thoughts and dreams.


psst.
Hitler used expletives. And probably ate finger sandwiches.