Over the generations,
over the years, we mistake
one person for another,
traits that come around
now and then, faces again
as the old were when new yet
different names and time, though 
somehow so familiar, and I
don't care, for what does it matter 
the era I'm in, to each their own 
name slips, silver and mercury,
beads, a blue in the maze
all atilt and woven

cc: CC '23