229 The Fool s paradox

I’ve long been puzzled by one thing—
The paradox of being a fool.
You try to grasp what it might mean,
But solving it is no light duel.
When thoughts get heavy in your head,
And gloom begins to pull you in,
You speak your heart, but words you’ve said
Fall flat—no one hears what’s within.

I don’t want to be the fool,
Yet somehow life is light for him.
His mind’s chaotic, breaks all rules,
No solid plan, no inner rim.
Why add up two and two at all?
He shrugs—“Whatever, leave it be.”
I simply cannot get his call…
But that is him—he’s just a fool, you see.

We know mistakes can shape a man—
A fool learns only from the fall.
But shaky is that learning’s span—
There’s something off inside it all.
A fool is normal, after all,
Just sees the world another way—
As though he walks a different hall
And notices what others stray.

I don’t want to be the fool,
Yet somehow life is light for him.
His mind’s chaotic, breaks all rules,
No solid plan, no inner rim.
Why add up two and two at all?
He shrugs—“Whatever, leave it be.”
I simply cannot get his call…
But that is him—he’s just a fool, you see.

And fairy tales have shown us too—
His mindset follows nature’s thread.
She speaks to him in tones he knew,
Though others miss what’s being said.
His thinking’s shaped another way,
A craft he’s oddly mastered well.
And now I’m lost in what I feel…
Perhaps I’m foolish too—who tells?

I get it now—I am the fool,
And living so is far from smooth.
My mind is wired in something new—
Unusual thoughts that twist and move.
Why hunt for meaning everywhere?
You live just fine without that track.
No one will truly see you there…
My God—looks like I’m the fool. In fact.
A fool… oh well.