Paradox

A Poem by Zach Gordano

Draw a comparison of black and white to love and hate. It left me in despair.

Two extremities represent every last one of our feelings,
Every last one of our treasures, our misfortunes.
Who are we to say what love is? Who are we to say what hate is?
Deep down inside, two feelings run our daily lives.
They are the fuel that burns society. They latch on to people,
Sucking the blood of every last one of us as if they were leeches.
It's simple as black and white. One can't survive without the other.
Two pinnacles in life. A Catch-22 that gets us as human beings through each day.
One may say they are opposite of each other, but are they really different?
White is all colors on the visual spectrum, all feelings in the human cerebral.
Black is no color, but how can we visualize black with no white light?
Which is which? Is love black, is love white? Or is hate black?
There's an area where the love and the hate converge into one, an area of grey.
A mix, if you will, of both feelings. Mutuality. The feelings are interchangeable.
Right away, prejudiced and presumed that black is an associate of hate.
But how can hate be colorless? Such a preposterous, unseemly feeling.
One may not be able to hate without getting to know the proprietor.
The same qualifications go for love. They intertwine with each other,
Coexistent of one another. Love to hate, hate to love.
A paradoxical way of life. One exists within the other.
Desolation brought on by both. Both leave a legacy of emptiness.
It is assumed that you have a sense of relief while in love.
A sense of purpose, a sense of fulfillment, satisfaction, caring. A sense of life.
But who is to say when love is experienced?
When love is not returned, hate is experienced.
Turn to the cold hatred, exposing truths and lies to try and win love.
Lost in a sea of love, my ship sways with the waves of hatred and anger.
You are a bass fisherman, and I am nothing but a sunfish.
I am hooked to your line, and you don't want me. You won't even settle for me.
But you keep reeling me in more and more, and I cannot break free of your realm.
If love was a game, I could not win your heart,
Because I have already lost my own heart to you over and over again.
The feeling is, indeed, heartless. Desolated and manipulated within.