The philosopher lived by the lightness
of his thoughts
and died under the weight
of his theory.
How does all that movement turn
into something so unmoving?
His neighbor down the street
has neither a light thought
nor a weighty death.
He withers away like a leaf
when the wind isn’t talking.
How many ways are there
to walk through an ephemera’s day?
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Comments about this poem (Scene2 by Jay Kasturi )
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
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