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Heraclitus

By Jonah Levy


That wasn’t me it was me

That wasn’t you it couldn’t be


Stubborn eyes that seem to be

Light sensitive when lights can’t see


We don’t drift like seas and knots

And no I love like I was taught


Practiced well barefoot with fire

Left in front and right to block


Cut some trees to form some path

Splintered hands to lay down lath


A gravel road that kicks up dust

And streets to pave with tolls to pass


It’s not a chore, just drying clay

An ovens short is wrong to say


Recycled trees to house this fleet

If change repeats I'll fight defeat

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