from a low point

there is no long
or short

there is only
vertical
only
eternity

that’s how far
how deep
his axis runs

in his sleep
it is only down

when he wakes
it is with no
up

and every night
he starts again
but
this time
from a low point

a lower point

then
down again

will it ever stop will it ever stop will it
ever
stop

new night
down again

how far he’s come . . .
why he has come . . .
these things
don’t matter
for he knows
where it will begin

so low

tonight

~

Poem #574 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

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