THE PARADOX

Does not a bed of roses have thorns
Does not pure water make the body ill
Do we not start dying the day we are born
Is not mans best friend capable to kill.

Does not love the homely heated heart break
The discarded know - hate in love can hide
Does passion not fade when the love is fake
Does love not return when past loves collide.

Does life not perish where death comes to life
Do we not strife, only to suffer less
Do tears not fall to the sounds of the fife
Do we not pray, yet proceed to transgress

When our mortal clock is at equinox
We realise life is a paradox.