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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476452" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>After You Leave</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">After you leave, a bell <br>	deeper than the sea strikes once <br>		and my blood thinks it's a ghost of fire <br>and tries to evaporate; gusts <br>	of the most graceful emotions, <br>		eloquent clarities of the heart, <br>shake me free of myself <br>	like leaves and petals and pages, <br>		the tender radiance of nightskies, <br>and I am astounded in the openness <br>	of an embrace without limits, <br>		of boundary stones being hurled delinquently <br>through the windows of ice-age mirrors <br>	that have wept so long and slowly <br>		over the silver river locked in chains. <br>How easy in this solitude <br>	to declare myself to you, <br>		to undo the delusions and the fears, <br>to flip through the chapters of the onion, <br>take off this last layer of skin, <br>	and shed the final masks of snow <br>in the warming recollection of your presence, <br>	in the way your beauty exhilarates me<br>		then thrusts me like a torch into a deep silence, <br>and my heart sets out by itself toward you<br>	scintillant everywhere, gold <br>		flowing out of the dark ore, <br>as if the moon rinsed out its own reflection, <br>	the legend of a secret constellation <br>		behind the vital starmap of fireflies <br>that makes me want to shine for you so intensely <br>	in this dark doorway of pain and passage <br>		that the light hurts with the poignancy <br>of its longing to fall like a key <br>	from the spirit's lost and found <br>		upon your planet; <br>to open gardens that have no word <br>	for fence or gate, <br>		to bridge your streams <br>with the pillars and roots of inspired stars. <br>	My heart sets out for you all by itself <br>		like a lantern on a road <br>that unspools with arrival at every step.<br>	After you leave I am possessed of the will <br>		of an anvil and a forge <br>to become a chalice for you, a sword, <br>	an axle and a plough, a strong bolt<br>		against the miscreance of battering circumstance. <br>I raise your reflection to my lips <br>	like a cup from a watershed of wine <br>		and in every single sip <br>swallow an ocean like a potion <br>	from the tears of the moon, <br>		knowing how dangerous it could be<br>to miss you, to become <br>	an addict of your light at the first taste, <br>		to wait for eras for the return of the dawn<br>that unravels even now like mystic lightning through my veins.<br> No more than the sun from the vine, <br>		the moon from the dreaming apple <br>the stars from the ripening vowel of the apricot, <br>	could any torn net woven of knotted lifelines <br>		undo the vision you have already mingled <br>like a night rose of fragrant fire in my blood, <br>	Not to drift again alone<br>like an empty boat<br>ferrying the corpse of the ferryman <br>through the fog to a cold shore<br>	now that I've been washed up on your island<br>like the voice of a salvaged star in a bottle, <br>	a frenzy of light and love in your tides, <br>		a drowned lighthouse <br>coming to life in every wave of you.<br>	I want to be brave enough <br>		to risk the possibility <br>of listening to the night together <br>	with the unveiled bride of the moon <br>		in the bay of my arms, <br>I want to be the sail, the flame, <br>	the gull of her breathing, <br>		the blue dolphin off the coast of her mouth.<br>I want to swim like a mirror<br>	the sea holds up to her face <br>		to do her hair up with starfish <br>she tresses like galaxies in the depths; <br>	I want to devote myself like a candle <br>		to the shrine of the September moonrise<br>that saturates the far sky over the sad hills <br>	like a warm breath glowing on chilled glass<br>		when she smiles <br>like the wind over the abundant harvest <br>	of the ashes I've stored against <br>		this famine of passion <br>in the silo of the blue guitar. <br>		I want to place my life <br>like a feather of fire <br>	on the mysterious altar of lunar rain<br>that splashes like stars everywhere <br>in the telescopic silvering of the well in her eyes, <br>	and turn these deserts of space and time <br>		back into grasslands <br>crossing her thresholds <br>	in whispers of pollen and dust. <br>		She walks into the room <br>to help me paint the bedroom walls, <br>	as I try to cover the grafitti <br>		of my vandalized soul with white, <br>and a dove in a cage<br> panics at her approach <br>		before an open door.<br>She climbs the ladder in rags with a brush <br>	like the moon over a lake, <br>		behind a cloud, <br>through the branches of a leafless willow<br>	and everything in the room <br>		is enhanced by her shining <br>and I'm rolling new skies over<br>	the scars and fossils of old stars, <br>		worn faces with plaster patches <br>to rewrite the shepherding lies, <br>	the myths and symbols of my solitude <br>		in the sidereal headlines of her transformative light.<br>Now it's four a.m<br>	and I'm pacing from empty room to empty room<br>		like the pendulum of a heavy clock <br>that aspires to be a bell, <br> threshing words like wild rice<br>	under an eyelid of peacock blue <br>to fill the empty hold of a buoyant heart, <br>	the small boat of her hands, <br>		with the eyes of a precious gathering.<br>And the tender snow falls quietly outside<br>	on the crow limbs of the winter trees<br>		like flesh returning to the bones of the dead <br>in a silent resurrection <br>	more unsayable than a veil of white <br>		that puts its finger to its lips<br>like an arrow of fire to a bow of blood<br>	to hear what the hidden nightbird <br>		under the eaves of a burning house is singing.</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=476452" data-title="After You Leave de Patrick White" data-description="After you leave, a bell 
	deeper than the sea strikes once 
		and my blood thinks it's a ghost of fire 
and tries to evaporate; gusts 
	of the most graceful emotions, 
		eloquent clarities of the heart, 
shake me free of myself 
	like leaves and p..."></div>
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