crude: the marvel

he was crudestuff he was raw butwhen he lit himselfoh a flamea bright white lighthe burned untilclean againhe shone he warmed he wasa marvel ~ Poem #594 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie ______________________________________________________________________________ Would you like to be notified about changes and developments in my … Continue reading crude: the marvel

a longing (to flutter)

and does the flame beyond the glass above the oil atop the wick ever long for freedom it burns as it must burn yielding light and climbing within its confines does it never wonder with naked desire of how it might feel to flutter in the caresses the tender touch of a gentle untrammeled breeze … Continue reading a longing (to flutter)