the seed’s perception

Poem #142 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction

my world is held
within an arc
of the sky

I do not see it
I do not feel it

but the blue above
I know
is a curving dome
that loses the horizon

I cannot touch it
though I know
that it is there

I cannot strike it
with the stone I throw
propelled with all the wrath
an arm can hurl

one day
I’m going to break out

one day
I swear that I’ll be free
beyond the blue

beyond the arc

out there
I will encounter
no restrictions
no constraints
on me

© Frank Prem 2018

Bachelard and me Poem #143: reflected into a corner

2 thoughts on “the seed’s perception

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