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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=471179" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Clock and Compass</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ardent arms that never dare halt<br>The flailing gestures in a dawdling waltz.<br>Clock and Compass, and the solitude curse<br>That leashed their hands onto their hearse, <br>Whilst chasing the tails of tales of vicissitude<br>The blasé endeavor, the blithe ineptitude<br>Of the labyrinthine revelry, where they frolic<br>And tinker, the macabre in the melody is chronic.<br> <br>&quot;Clock, in your hands that fumble to rock<br>An infant to ripen in a tale of another deadlock<br>Take me in a cavalcade to the shards of your ocean<br>Jarred in your veins, with tides in constant ashen-<br>Currents, and I shall fumble to catch your waves<br>Immortal cradles in a flimsy steady pace<br>In your flannel tux and silver scaffolds<br>Tell me what to consume, tell what to hold.&quot;<br> <br>&quot;Compass, lead me down into your darkness<br>Into your clandestine garden, into your nest<br>And I will seize your tired moribund arms<br>Lithe arms of sentries, broken arms of tramps<br>You're a faceless void, a nameless face<br>With gilded frames and such liquid lace<br>In an orchid gown that extends too far<br>To guide my trail like the northern star.&quot;<br> <br>&quot;Clock, you are surmised to a predetermined sequence<br>An extensive pre-morbid saga in feigned eloquence<br>That matured every epoch, every decade, and every second<br>Baneful with the repletion of a wish to depart and abscond<br>Let me caress your arms, rigid and enfeebled arms<br>That caught every instance but never possessed charms<br>To hex all that saunters past these circlet roads<br>And touch your gallant frames weary from its loads.&quot;<br> <br>&quot;Compass, your fate is callously casted<br>To obliterate your path left encrusted<br>With hopes in tombs and scornful chances<br>And nary praying arms, but throbbing lances.<br>I will hold your impositions, with hands oblivious<br>With its erratic directions I would gladly reduce<br>Myself, and my own coerced path will vacillate<br>To induce pain, for pain is life and it will regulate.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Norman+Santos">Norman Santos</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=471179" data-title="Clock and Compass de Norman Santos" data-description="Ardent arms that never dare halt
The flailing gestures in a dawdling waltz.
Clock and Compass, and the solitude curse
That leashed their hands onto their hearse, 
Whilst chasing the tails of tales of vicissitude
The blasé endeavor, the blithe ine..."></div>
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