who flexed (the line)

sometimes a line
is a channel

yielding

guiding

like the ditches
dry
in channel country
waiting
to take new water

sometimes
my line
is an arrow

endlessly flying

endlessly seeking
to find a mark

endlessly
wounding

I am
the archer

only
the archer
who flexed
the bow

~

Poem #486 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

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