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A Time for Thougts

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I
First came seeds;
Hope for the next,
New life,
A start,
Of unremembered past.

II
It is only now that I see
That I hear
Or feel
Or taste.
The rest is just fading memory
That can’t be caught
And preserved for eternity
Or some slight ghost of what may happen
Without even a pattern of footsteps
As detail.

III
They say history repeats itself.
History is gone.
It doesn’t change.
Future changes.
But anyhow,
How can you find
That which isn’t there (yet)?





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