Am I composed of quanta recycled
From long dead geniuses and scalawags,
From my own past lives to be reshackled?
Infused by poets and beggars in rags?
Now that I am back here on Planet Earth,
I keep stumbling like I did in the past,
Trying to encircle Pleasure Dome's girth...
Yonder, not far, I see His Light--at last!
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