it’s a paradox
how nothing is new
unless it’s a spring flower
unfolding when nobody
is looking
they say original
ideas no longer exist
they’ve been put to pasture
in the paradox field
far from here
even that smile
I sometimes see you with
is a replica of a paradox
captured long ago
when we were young
february two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
The fox in the sky wanders by day,
the universe his playing field.
Zeus proclaimed the creature’s cunning
would forever prevent his capture.
At night you could spot him dancing
while his predator rested worlds away.
The sun god created the hunter,
a canine with an uncanny sniffer.
Zeus predicted the dog’s destiny
included perfection in pursuit.
Led on leash by his master,
nothing eluded their golden snares.
The inevitable could not be ignored:
the fox could not be caught
while the hunter always prevailed.
Somewhere in between the paradox
ended their short-lived careers
after Zeus converted both to static stardom.
july two thousand twenty-one
(originally penned october two thousand eleven)
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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