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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476450" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Whole Galaxy Lights Up</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A whole galaxy lights up for the sake of a single planet; for<br>	the sake of a single flower, the entire earth turns itself<br>		into a loom and weaves for a million years. <br>How many oceans have died to hang one dropp of water <br>	at the tip of a blade of grass; and can you see in that blade<br>		the untold dawns and sunsets that have risen and fallen like bread? <br>How many skies have bloomed and shed themselves <br>	like the petals of blue roses<br>		and how many birds have expired in their songs and wings<br>and fallen to earth like broken harps <br>	to open up the space and voice within you? Have you<br>		ever considered the endless generations of faces<br>that have come and gone, weeping themselves slowly into oblivion<br>	like the crying glass of windows <br>		just for the sake of one of your fleeting smiles; <br>or the billion nights that trembled in their dreams<br>	for the colour of your eyes? And your blood<br>		that is sweeter to you than any wine and floats<br>the boat of your heart down the rivers of its infinite flowing; <br>	have you ever listened, deep within yourself, to the echo<br>		of the hammers on the anvils of the aeons of volcanoes<br>that laboured like sacred smithies to pour and purify<br>	all their skill and metal into your living iron? How are you not<br>		in the least pore of your being<br>this miracle of so much? But tell me, you who can instantly travel<br>	to the ends of the known universe and forever beyond<br>		without leaving yourself, even<br>as you sit waiting for a bus, or brushing your hair; <br>	what vastness of space and silence<br>		has honed itself to a non-existent point<br>and entered like a gracious guest the tiny house of your bones and skin<br>	and laid out all these thoughts and passions, <br>		these clothes and jewels like gifts? And there<br>in the resplendency of the black mirror that illustrates your soul<br>	and holds it up to you like the moon to the moon on midnight waters, <br>		isn’t that the universe you’ve just pinned like a rose to your hair? <br>Beloved, I have lived ten thousand lifetimes<br>	and discarded them like worn-out shoes, <br>		fallen and risen from the dust of the road over and over again<br>just to make my way to this moment of you. Eternities have passed<br>	and time itself has grown old and been forgotten<br>		gods and civilizations, known and unknown<br>have worn away like stones like wildflowers since I first set <br>	my vagrant heart on you, my every step, a grail, every breath, <br>		Jerusalem, following you through the days and nights, <br>every sea, sky, and desert, your footprint, until I could bathe, <br>	washed clean of myself and the journey<br>		in the resurgent light of your beauty, that fountain<br>that has turned every atom of my being into a pilgrim<br>	as if a million worlds went off in all directions like rays of light<br>		or fingertips<br>to touch God’s face<br>	as if they had raised a hand up to their own. Beloved, <br>		where are you when I am so lost<br>everything looks like a strange home you once slept in for a night<br>	and then abandoned, even the dishes, even the light, <br>		even the small keys to your presence<br>you keep dropping everywhere like tears<br>	that lock nothing in, nothing out; where are you now, <br>		as I write this, longing for you, turning this beggar’s agony<br>into words that might rise like a glorious new constellation<br>	full of grace and destiny<br>		over the beautiful dark hills of your seeing<br>that are your eyes and the woods I wander in. Beloved, <br>	I am your shadow; I am your ghost, coming and going from you<br>		like a gate that yearns to be a wing<br>on any bird hurled, singing, into the dawn of your smile, <br>	even if it be reflected on a windowpane. You, who are my life, <br>		though a hair’s breadth seperate us, though<br>no more than the depth of the moon’s reflection keeps me<br>	from drowning in your mysterious waters, I am nothing<br>		but unheeded suffering outside your garden walls, nothing<br>but a phantom caravan in a desert of worlds outside<br>	waiting to enter with gifts from a distant spirit<br>		for the queen of the city. Beloved, look over your walls<br>like the moon walking its own heights<br>	and gaze down upon the passion of my tents and fires<br>		as if they were the flowers of the starfields<br>that snag in your veils of light, happily torn from their own shining<br>	so might they adorn your passage. In your presence, <br>		I am the mystic wind that wants to sport in your hair<br>and sweep through the valleys and along the curves of your body, <br>	caressing every flute, shrine, and bell of your being <br>		until all of you starts ringing, crazy with joy, <br>and all your leaves, all your secret lilies, <br>	shudder silver side up in the sunlight after the storm.<br>		Beloved, grant me freedom. Assent. Put an end<br>to the eloquence of this divine poverty<br>	by blowing me out like a candle flame<br>		that has danced on its own dying long enough. Without you<br>all my seeing and saying<br>	is a rose and a word I’ve placed<br>		on my own dejected coffin, drifting like an empty boat.<br>Beloved, open this door of darkness like the first crescent of the moon<br>	and make an end of me in you as you have <br>		so many stars and asylums and longings before me; let me<br>cross your threshold like a tide you have raised and sent<br>	rushing up your slopes of life within, and when I am spent, <br>		draw me back into yourself like a wave or a breath or a world, <br>or, deeper yet, this ocean of shoreless oceans that has swayed me into being<br>	without beginning, end, or separation, <br>		this extravagance in the form of the man who loves you.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Patrick+White">Patrick White</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=476450" data-title="A Whole Galaxy Lights Up de Patrick White" data-description="A whole galaxy lights up for the sake of a single planet; for
	the sake of a single flower, the entire earth turns itself
		into a loom and weaves for a million years. 
How many oceans have died to hang one dropp of water 
	at the tip of a blade o..."></div>
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