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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=471652" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Treading The Choreography Of The Water</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Underneath the cessation of the strident choreography<br>Of the waters that we treaded - now flat and asleep - <br>We harked the last note of the sparrow's garrulous song<br>And the initiation of the soughing of the swarthy leaves<br>That resembled the stropping of the daunted tongue<br>That we kept like keys to our clandestine doors<br>And unsheathed like knives that rose with alacrity<br>We mused and basked in this decade of vexing silence<br>Listening to the same stillness and interpolating architectures<br>But solving different equations with different visions<br>And as we speak through the grinding pebbles under our feet<br>We only harry the penultimate flare of the apprehensive dusk<br>So we can succumb into our individual darkness, <br>So we can bleed and revel in different places; <br>Because we can only be faithful with our infidelities<br>And this savageness that we deny and slept with <br>Burns out the hapless and sedentary peace that remained.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The clarity that scintillates with the luminaries<br>Are sundered preventing the eruption of the radiance <br>That will sharply speak of the ugly truth and madly strip<br>The sedative rivers of anguish in the forced scars<br>Because we had prayed for the dark to mantle <br>Our faces that had already watched the final march<br>And heard the swansong of the trumpets that are<br>Still to be commanded by the ashen and bony moon<br>Soused in the inebriating taste of the waters we treaded.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The dark found its fiendish repose and prowled<br>Like a panther lurking behind the veiling malignance<br>Of our self-incarceration and self-love, rivaling <br>The thwarting chances roaming this evil world<br>And unleashing the apologetic grips of the manacles<br>That shudders in our wrists like promises, thus<br>We decay bloating in this feral growth of self-sympathy<br>Forgetting and unlearning the water's choreography<br>And little did we know: we toppled to the unbeknownst</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The dark vesper was a munificent curtain<br>Shrouding our ravenous differences<br>That spliced a vale in our juxtaposition<br>Because this ignorance and complacence<br>Deems itself an auspicious proposition<br>When you pointed an enraptured saber<br>To a motionless archenemy beside you<br>To exonerate a third warfare and the vale<br>Deluged with a war cry - a cry that spoke of<br>The night losing his nacreous moon amidst<br>The plethora of flitting stars and songs, <br>A cry that broke the chains of innocence<br>And molted blindness that rampaged in a wrath, <br>A cry that plead to go back in the capitulating circles <br>Of loneliness in togetherness; and it submerged<br>With tired saline water and haughty zephyrs <br>Until the recuperation of wounds steeled <br>With our adamant convicted obstinacies</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The water tension drooped with our altered weight<br>And as our souls assailed into foreign places separately<br>This infinite nights' prolonged suffering can only endeavor<br>To keep our bodies together - forked by the same sword</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Across the sea, the mountain pass, the prairie<br>You will hear the sirens beckon to you to drown<br>And I hope that you will find me hiding <br>In the smattering and the echoing suppurations - <br>A haunting memory, an evocative loss, or<br>Not remember my songs at all.</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=471652" data-title="Treading The Choreography Of The Water de Norman Santos" data-description="Underneath the cessation of the strident choreography
Of the waters that we treaded - now flat and asleep - 
We harked the last note of the sparrow's garrulous song
And the initiation of the soughing of the swarthy leaves
That resembled the stropp..."></div>
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