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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=429712" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Rites Of Darkness</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sleds of the children <br>Move down the right slope. <br>To the left, hazed in the tumbling air, <br>A thousand lights smudge <br>Within the branches of the old forest, <br>Like colored moons in a well of milk. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The sleds of the children <br>Make no sound on the hard-packed snow. <br>Their bright cries are not heard <br>On that strange hill. <br>The youngest are wrapped <br>In cloth of gold, and their scarfs <br>Have been dipped in blood. <br>All the others, from the son <br>Of Tegos, who is the Bishop <br>Of Black Church—near Tarn, <br>On to the daughter of the least slut, <br>Are garbed in love's shining dress; <br>Naked little eels, they flash <br>Across the amazed ice. <br>And behind each sled <br>There trots a man with his sex <br>Held like a whip in his snaking hand. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>But no one sees the giant horse <br>That climbs the steps which stretch forth <br>Between the calling lights and that hill <br>Straight up to the throne of God. <br>He is taller than the highest tree <br>And his flanks steam under the cold moon. <br>The beat of his heart shakes the sky <br>And his reaching muzzle snuffles <br>At the most ancient star. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>* </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The innocent alone approach evil <br>Without fear; in their appointed flame <br>They acknowledge all living things. <br>The only evil is doubt; the only good <br>Is not death, but life. To be is to love. <br>This I thought as I stood while the snow <br>Fell in that bitter place, and the riders <br>Rode their motionless sleds into a nowhere <br>Of sleep. Ah, God, we can walk so easily, <br>Bed with women, do every business <br>That houses and roads are for, scratch <br>Our shanks and lug candles through <br>These caves; but, God, we can't believe, <br>We can't believe in anything. <br>Because nothing is pure enough. <br>Because nothing will ever happen <br>To make us good in our own sight. <br>Because nothing is evil enough. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>* </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I squat on my heels, raise my head <br>To the moon, and howl. <br>I dig my nails into my sides, <br>And laugh when the snow turns red. <br>As I bend to drink, <br>I laugh at everything that anyone loves. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>All your damn horses climbing to heaven</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Kenneth+Patchen">Kenneth Patchen</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=429712" data-title="The Rites Of Darkness de Kenneth Patchen" data-description="The sleds of the children 
Move down the right slope. 
To the left, hazed in the tumbling air, 
A thousand lights smudge 
Within the branches of the old forest, 
Like colored moons in a well of milk. 


The sleds of the children 
Make no sound on ..."></div>
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