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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344201" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Blur</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Storms of perfume lift from honeysuckle,<br>lilac, clover—and drift across the threshold,<br>outside reclaiming inside as its home.<br>Warm days whirl in a bright unnumberable blur,<br>a cup—a grail brimmed with delirium<br>and humbling boredom both. I was a boy,<br>I thought I'd always be a boy, pell—mell,<br>mean, and gaily murderous one moment<br>as I decapitated daises with a stick,<br>then overcome with summer's opium,<br>numb—slumberous. I thought I'd always be a boy,<br>each day its own millennium, each<br>one thousand years of daylight ending in<br>the night watch, summer's pervigilium,<br>which I could never keep because by sunset<br>I was an old man. I was Methuselah,<br>the oldest man in the holy book. I drowsed.<br>I nodded, slept—and without my watching, the world,<br>whose permanence I doubted, returned again,<br>bluebell and blue jay, speedwell and cardinal<br>still there when the light swept back,<br>and so was I, which I had also doubted.<br>I understood with horror then with joy,<br>dubious and luminous joy: it simply spins.<br>It doesn't need my feet to make it turn.<br>It doesn't even need my eyes to watch it,<br>and I, though a latecomer to its surface, I'd<br>be leaving early. It was my duty to stay awake<br>and sing if I could keep my mind on singing,<br>not extinction, as blurred green summer, lifted<br>to its apex, succumbed to gravity and fell<br>to autumn, Ilium, and ashes. In joy<br>we are our own uncomprehending mourners,<br>and more than joy I longed for understanding<br>and more than understanding I longed for joy</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Andrew+Hudgins">Andrew Hudgins</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344201" data-title="Blur de Andrew Hudgins" data-description="Storms of perfume lift from honeysuckle,
lilac, clover—and drift across the threshold,
outside reclaiming inside as its home.
Warm days whirl in a bright unnumberable blur,
a cup—a grail brimmed with delirium
and humbling boredom both. I was a..."></div>
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