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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