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·!¦[· I think, I am ·]¦!·

and the paradox is that Thought is the Problem.

The swing I sat on when I was five
Gave me the greatest pleasure
I knew happiness as I swung
Thinking life was leisure
And the wind rushing against my face
Promised that it would last
Now I smile ruefully
When I remember that swing from my past.

Life is cruel just as it is kind,
And to be kind it needs to be cruel;
Love, happiness, honour and beauty
Are trapped in this unceasing duel.
I used to love with gay abandon,
Now caution dictates my every move
In matters of life
In matters of love.

I still wear my heart on my sleeve,
Though I try harder to shield it,
I have sharpened my brain with experience,
And I have learnt to wield it.
Years have passed and are passing still,
I have lost those I loved and some have lost me,
I have been touched and have been bruised,
Each caress and weal I have stored in memory.

You see a part of me now,
Perhaps I shall let you see the other sides of me,
Perhaps you'll see the boy, with the wind on that swing,
Perhaps the present or some future destiny;
Through all of your judgement know this:
Disregarding every shred of vanity,
You never did, never will or hope to know,
Another man quite like me.