a cleansing flame

Poem #219 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction


rendered
to a taper

arm
upraised
as wick

he ignited
his impurities
those that were
himself
and that stood
so rigidly
as him

then slowly
he burned

his unclean self
his
incompleteness
and deficits
burned

a flame is yellow
a flame is blue
a flame
is white

and so he burned
until the light
so warm in honesty
faded
to grey
to dark

until a muddling pool
of tallowed stuff
and a dispersing black
of smoke
were all

he was gone

but the shape of him
burned clean away
the shape that once
he was
stood clear
stood pure
and clean


© Frank Prem 2018

Bachelard and me Poem #220: lonely fish

2 thoughts on “a cleansing flame

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