All we know of most we know
Lost are the doxographers'
More organized, surviving
Summaries. Originals,
Gone as Alexandria,
Were anyway fragmented,
Inchoate start to finish.
But as dunes become sandstone,
Then shore sands, then stone again,
The thoughts of the lost thinkers,
Compressed, warped, scraped and released
In the wind again, pile drifts
In a mind original,
Ready to whisper, get lost.
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