Cotton's Paradox
©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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