paradox

I've lost my motivation, what problem can I attack? Give me the one that's paradoxical, so I can carry it on my back. Sometimes I wonder if when I write is the only time I think, but not knowing where the thoughts come from leaves me on the brink. I romanticize my absent mind and the suffering it brings, then I let my conscience go when the angels claim to sing. So I stop in my tracks, the road detours, and I consider deeper things. In hopes that my mind and my heart reformed can give me stronger wings. But what do they mean when these metaphors are brought down to human beings? The lack of specificity turns these lyrics into strings. The distance making it hard to read the vastness in-between. I sit with my feelings as they are unclear, and my voice softens with fear. The words that I use are built on distrust, they're built on fears of temptation and lust. They're built on the promise of shame and guilt, on top of the fear that fearing built.