The Book Of Being Poem by Lev Brekhman
The Book Of Being
Only when dying can you know
Your real name, not your given.
To farthest reaches will you go -
This is not, surely, a game.
Your name coincides with that Edition,
Of which you are a smallest word.
And so the death is not perdition,
But just your coming to accord.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: book
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5/8/2024 4:06:20 PM # 1.0.0.1119
