The Laws Paradox

They bind the hand that reaches for the throat,

They tame the storm, the selfish, vicious goat.

A fence erected in the wild green space,

To keep a certain peace, a measured pace.

They say, "This far, no further," to the strong,

And grant the weak a place where they belong.

The wild wood cleared, a path is neatly laid,

A promise in the daylight, unafraid.

The chaos of a million warring wills,

Subdued by silent paper, on the hills.

But oh, the hand that's bound, it can not reach

For gentle touch, a kind and earnest speech.

The fence that holds the monster in its place,

Can also hide the sunbeam from the face.

The measured pace, a slow and weary stride,

For those whose hearts can't find a place to hide.

The path so straight, it never takes a turn,

To find a secret lesson it can learn.

And in the order, beauty dies away,

A price for safety, paid in shades of gray.

So here we stand, a paradox held tight,

Between the ordered day and primal night.

We trade a measure of our wild desire,

To keep the savage shadow from the fire.

The cage we build to hold the darkness in,

Is also, strangely, where our lives begin.