the flood


he said

every day
the sorrow falls

I am killed
in the flood
of shadows

I do not
come to life again
in the morning
with the sun
but am the corpse
on which
the sorrow falls
once more

and I die
another dying
without ever finding life

I die
in the flood


Poem #327 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction

3 thoughts on “the flood

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