The Paradoxical Cube

Natalia Podolec

Tiny yet monumental, hollow yet solid, Such is the cube, that day in, day out, engulfs me, a human being, Though I know the secret of the paradoxical cube, Why do they not?

Teach us they did that birds of the cage believe flying to be an illness,

Though who are they that teach us?

Human beings of the cube, whose edges axe so deep in the fortress of their minds, that they reach up merely to grasp its edges in for a merciful hug and a brotherly kiss, as if they themselves long to burst into a thousand cubes, Though I know the secret of the paradoxical cube, Why do they not?

Only in the darkness have I seen its face, For afraid of its own shadows, it lays awake at night, Warm on the surface, though cold on the inside, Flat at first glance, though deeper than the ocean, Perception, though, they did not teach, For perception to them is not of the square, nor of its brother: the triangle, but of the circle, and a sphere I long to be, Across the stars I would dash, faster than the speed of light, Speed through into its celestial grip, so that in a millisecond it would shatter,

Freeing entity of its chains for eternity, Though I know the secret of the paradoxical cube, Why do they not?

I hear its name is Paradoxis of the clan of the Paradoxians, My name? I know it not. For true names are born from deeds, not by birth, and deeds I have none, for out of a labyrinth I was born,

I am like an empty vessel waiting to be lit up, Though I know the secret of the paradoxical cube, Why do they not?

Tell me Socrates, tell me Plato, do you hear me when I contemplate life this way?

Tell me Pythagoras, Tell me Euclid, What is the square root of this cube?

Tell me Aurelius, Tell me Epictetus,

Am I all a human being ought to be? Perhaps I know not many things, Though I know the secret of the paradoxical cube, Why do they not?

Come, come tiger, fire of my soul, Teach me your wisdom, the wisdom of the warrior, so that we may blend into one, and that I may paint its six faces, with the power of your stripes. For I have heard that art and poetry are great healers of mankind.

So come tiger, my true king, may we blend into one, Invisible yet Invincible, blunt yet sharp, Tiny yet monumental, hollow yet solid, Do I Indeed know the secret of the paradoxical cube? Or do I not?