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.
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