The one is not many
And the many are not one
But the one are many
And the many is one.
The journey from the alone to the alone
Is filled with the injustice of mistakes,
The false harmony of insight
And the tyranny of lakes
Gathering
With the rains of memory,
Scattering
In the sway that hooves
Apocalypse where to the last
Hovers the lonely dove.
An apology was wanted,
No defense, not
The sin of Socrates,
But admission of guilt
In the vision that clings
To other eyes.
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