The Daughter of Heraclitus

I am not who I was before

Although

That person is still part of who I am

Part of me

This life of mine but a process

Of replacing one piece at a time

An exchange of old for older,

But sometimes old for new

The old touches the new

Shares secrets of the past

Passes the memory along

Becomes entangled

Even I don’t know what is history

I am not who I was before

And not yet whom I will be,

For when I suddenly am,

I will have ceased to change.

Ceased to live.

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