Repetition is a problem.
Is it all no more than likeness
Or mere perception of likeness?
It seems some component would have
To be truly identical,
Or what part of a likeness is
Constant that creates the likeness?
You take your awkward steps through clumps
Of wild grasses on the roadside,
And what does your heart repeat, your
Breath, your careful steps, the grasses?
If constancy’s an illusion,
How do you perceive it? It’s not,
Anymore than difference is,
Illusion, at least, but no one
Can tell you exactly what makes
Each wave rippling the grass alike,
Exactly how each is distinct.
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