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Writing
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The Heraclitus Whisper
The Heraclitus Whisper |
How gold in shower bathed our heads
When once we knew we thought we knew
Our shadows from the flames, when
Charmides had temperance and Lysis
Knew his friends. We feasted
Of the unknown gods, induced ambrosia
From our lips, sang soft, four-footed
Waltzes, roiling this clot of earth,
Disclosing the unmade face of man.
But the dialectic moon renews
And dies, renews and dies, playing
Skip-rope with a youth too crescent
To sustain the Heraclitus whisper
Echoing, "Change, change, change."
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| © Kyle Amon |
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