Cotton's Paradox

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©2012, Olan L. Smith


A container surrounds, obscures this world from my scrutiny;

I exist in a cube imperceptible and yet tangible; it is me.

I nurture a comfortably in my constructed penitentiary

Which I built upon underpinnings of worry and uncertainty―

People pass and never knock or unbutton its door―

I am both demise and existence subsisting in a container with a wooden floor,

Within is a meter set to expire; it will conclude and I become as before

Free to roam a universe, a new box to explore?

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