They confiscated the paradox; they called it unlawful

They confiscated the paradox; they called it unlawful, Carving the truth to the desired measure, Shaming the threat and killing the unworthy. But for years in the grayness created with blood, Years of inhaling toxic facades and consuming revolts, He brought jewels to her feet and worshiped The same idea and image that everyone hated. In a world of shadows, where words are cut, And thoughts are shaped like clay, Truth hides under veils of silence, While dreams are hunted like prey in the night. We try to see through the cracks of reality, To find sparks of light in the dense darkness, But the paradox, that divine gift, slips through our fingers, In a world that prefers the silence of comfortable lies. And yet, in our depths, we know that truth, Though carved and mutilated, continues to breathe, A small but unyielding flame that burns, In the hearts of those who still dare to dream.