While Others Gather

Many years ago, I came across a book of the poetry of Heraclitus which glued me to the spot (it was a bookstore, in the basement I remember quite vividly) until I had absorbed it into my system, into my very psyche.  For years, too, I carried inside me one of his poems which today seems more than appropriate and which I present without any explanation. Take from it what you will.

"What was scattered, gathers.  What was gathered, blows apart."