And how do we manage paradox?
The shimmering mirages of our minds?
Where the world is both fragmentary and dazzling?
This is such is it not?
I mean it’s like this; this is how it is
Can you see what I’m pointing at?
Indicating the target
But in my myopic dazzle
Can I trust that the target is the target
A bull’s eye of power?
My hands shake with the tension of the bow
Paradox is all of a shimmer
There is no target
Only my tears in the cold wind.
So I will sit for a while and gather my vulnerabilities.
Over there is here now;
I love to be surrounded by all these foreigners
It makes me feel at home
Perhaps at home I am not at home.
I need to turn round and catch a glimpse of the self behind me
Those opposite but maybe apposite impulses
Cheeky devils but devils non the less
Twisting me about their talons . . .
Holding me to the flames.
I don’t think optimism is overly concerned with the contradictions of paradox,
We could even make the next leap together . . .
We shall discuss it at tomorrow’s conference and discover that the door is open
Or if it’s not a door, then the path will be apparent
Though its degree of difficulty remains uncertain
Surprises are guaranteed.