I've not fought with Aristotle
Nor argued with Pythagoras
I am no master of logic as they
Yet I use what I have
A pen, a page, my mind
And make words breathe
Letters then are organs of life
Instrumental ideas playing symphonies
That dance through mirrored souls
Reflections on immortality
When words inhale
A writer's mind contracts
When words exhales
The fly into the hearts and minds
Of those who dare
To fight with Aristotle
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