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First, a poem.

Mutability
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
We are the clouds that veil the midnight moon;
How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver,
Streaking the darkness radiantly!--yet soon
Night closes round, and they are lost forever:

Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings
Give various response to each varying blast,
To whose frail frame no second motion brings
One mood or modulation like the last.

We rest.--A dream has power to poison sleep;
We rise.--One wandering thought pollutes the day;
We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep;
Embrace fond foe, or cast our cares away:

It is the same!--For, be it joy or sorrow,
The path of its departure still is free:
Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;
Nought may endure but Mutability.


In case you didn't know, "mutability" means change. Shelley's saying that the only constant is change.

Lots of things in my life are changing right now. I can't talk about all of them, but believe me when I say that, knock on wood, there aren't any bad changes, just ... a lot of new things to get used to.

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