People I see, I’ve known before.

I remember them not, yet I think I will

In times to come, as in times gone past,

Meet with them then, but know not why.

Could it be that souls who dwell

Do not die, do not form but just live on

Changing shape, outwardly so, as actors

Change voice and clothes and leading roles?

I know not the answer to this riddle profound,

Yet people pass with no second glance.

At times it seems something anew

Yet mostly imparts a strange déjà vu.