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The Renaming (Poem)

Updated: Feb 19

A beautiful house behind a cloud.

No, there's no point,

In going south once again,

For I've done all there's to appoint.

So there's no point,

There's no point,

In going South once again,

The North will be my grave.


Below, the mountains,

Only to survive I must descend there.

Now I just need to build this to my heir,

No affair,

No affair,

In going South once again,

The North will be my grave.

Little else, little else,

There is left to do, no less.

For I abstained from things which cause a mess.

I'll not pass,

I'll not pass,

Through the unnecessary.

Nothing else is necessary.


It's the peak, it's the peak,

Why sacrifice it, why to risk?

For there is no bone left to pick;

None to pick,

None to pick,

By going to the South again,

The North will be my grave.


This is, the end's start,

Of the rest of my life.

From the past I must depart,

So I can strive,

So I can strive,

To be a more peaceful man;

A less innocent man.


There's little, there's little,

Left to expect.

No greater advancement upon to act;

It's the curtain call,

Of this show;

For I'm not Tom at all,

For I'm finally Tomasio.

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Tomasio A. Rubinshtein, Philosocom's Founder & Writer

I am a philosopher from Israel, author of several books in 2 languages, and Quora's Top Writer of the year 2018. I'm also a semi-hermit who has decided to dedicate his life to writing and sharing my articles across the globe. Several podcasts on me, as well as a radio interview, have been made since my career as a writer. More information about me can be found here.

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