Respect His Books
I respect his face of hair and skin,
The butterflies cluster around his noisy head.
The faults he wears currently are extinct,
Those wonders in his heart shall never be sin.
We connect and collect to understand Time,
Yet the seconds pass quicker than drops of rain.
Forming us is forming the dragons of beauty,
Gradual serenades arrive to lift our worries.
The arguments are of the well-made sort,
Elevating us in their esteem with well-trodden words
Which icily gauge our troubled minds
So that philosophy has taken root
In the very piercing soul.
I respect the readings of oblong books,
Philosophers stand out with intrepid and perilous
Adventures of the thoughts.
His face is entered from afar,
The man whom Heidegger is escaping
Due to his mind.
The minding of the business is offering me
Sane, wild, built ideas
So dreaded by students that sing lofty words.
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