The Foot of the Way

A Poem

The Foot of the Way

In a previous death

I was a nail,

driven into the foot of the Way itself.

Ever after

every day

I celebrate the Equinox.

If I have fingers –

they serve only

to drop the sunset’s shoulder.

Later on there is a content leak

and the night is so chatty,

that the air splits into tablets.

I’m looking for the nail hole –

to crawl on the other side,

where there is no truth,

but only the potency of everything

unrevealed yet.

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Article info

Date: September 1, 2021
Author: Ventsislav Vasilev (Bulgary)
Photo: Heather Truett on Pixabay CCO

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