we have been here before

How many drops have blazed such courses–

Condensation of our reality, all at once,

And at all times, single threads all frayed,

The trail and path turn out like a hydra,

How many ends from one beginning–

A chariot pulled by a team of panicked horses

Blessèd are you that can focus on the present,

To live and die among the practical,

Not led astray by such romantic notions

As the wending mesh of space and time

For it is a madness to ponder on the variations

Of myriad possibilities, feels like generation loss

Still I should think it neat

That in all the streams that ever were

We would forever get to meet.