Paradoxes

“Without knowing from whence the thing comes and what awaits us, we are given over to absolute solitude. No one can speak with us and no one can speak for us; we must take it upon ourselves, each of us must take it upon himself.”

– Jacques Derrida, The Gift of Death

Language is a human invention,
full of contradictions.

Morning and mourning:

they are pronounced almost the same
yet render contrasting depictions –
one is painted with
luminosities,
splendor,
euphoria,
bloom,
the other with
melancholies,
loss,
grief,
gloom.

Emotions are programmed responses,
they are not really your own.

Debt and death:

they sound almost the same
but are binary oppositions –
one seems like an endless burden:
a constant obligation
(of gratitude)
necessitating
resolution,
the other is an end in itself:
an ultimate departure,
a gift, said Derrida,
the final respite
(from pandemonium),
the conclusion of materiality,
the materiality of conclusion.

Order is merely a structure, a modern illusion,
masking itself in convoluted constructs and conventions.