Constantin Preda

The sauntering step

I throw myself
against the air
and find
from my shadow

and shadows
throw themselves
against the air
and leave behind
the clamor of eras,
like a cloud
of dragonflies

and further behind me
time throws itself
against everything
and leaves behind
emptinesses like

those silences
swarm and
throw themselves
against me
leaving behind
a man
whose shadow’s
made of time.





Constantin Preda is 27 and writes poetry because of Nichita.

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