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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476461" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Among The Skeletons Of The Sundials</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Among the skeletons of the sundials <br>what deficits of time remain unlived, unfulfilled? <br>So much forfeited to what crowded it out. <br>And the more that was said, the more <br>fraudulent and incomplete what we wanted to sing. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Too many murmuring windows, too many <br>trashed doorways to the collusive shelters of the heart. <br>We saw the stars, and how few learned. <br>We went to war for reasons <br>that have forgotten us now <br>and though there were those <br>who sternly waited like iron gates <br>no one returned to their secret gardens<br>or the silence as they had left it. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I watched from an island as the sea flexed <br>into the muscle of my generation <br>to celebrate a dream that hasn't happened yet <br>and tear the veils off the multi-eyed spiders<br>and make them wince in a succession <br>of photo-op acid flashbacks <br>that stunted the weaving a moment or two.<br> <br>It was what we could do, not what we did it for, <br>and the idealism of it all was merely <br>the afterthought of the alibi for the release <br>of so much sunamic energy that would sooner <br>walk on water in Jesus boots, than float<br>the way the usual bloated corpses did. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The earth shook and the bridges and cornerstones <br>sank into quicksand, and the black roses <br>of the La Brea tar pits swallowed their worms. <br>And then the profit margins of the corporations <br>went helical as a stairway to heaven <br>and heaven came down to earth, and money was made.<br>Love and understanding exploited <br>as natural human resources. Spiritual materialism. <br>Light My Fire became the enlightenment path to cars. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I was there. I still wear more scars than I do flowers.<br>And I can remember the day the sundials died <br>in aesthetic gardens of unconcern and though <br>I loved the colours and the creative efflorescence <br>of unconditioned minds here and there <br>who had avoided madness by an eyelash, <br>it was only our lack of years for a summer or two <br>that kept us from saying the word, pure, with filthy mouths. <br>Too early for the fountains to fester yet. <br>Too late to heed the omens of the sundials.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alchemists of liberty, we had turned our iron cages <br>into golden ones and the doves shook against their bars <br>like philosophers who could still see the stars outside <br>that beckoned them to leave, the doors were open, <br>but stayed within the precincts of their lamps and candles, <br>like Luna moths and houseflies. And you <br>who see the tv sixties like the capstones <br>of ice bergs and pyramids, the all too human concerts <br>of the indefatigable music where the painted breasts <br>of the wild Pictish women from California<br>danced like the fruit of low hanging branches, <br>give some thought to the sweating horses of the past<br>and the number of flies that fell into the Milky Way. <br>So that purity doesn't appear like a ghost again <br>detached from the earth or swept clean of mirages <br>in a desert of stars that didn't keep our footprints very long. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">You might have missed the greatest party on earth<br>but you didn't suffer the depressive hangover of the end <br>when the junkies sat up against the wall listening <br>to Jimi Hendrix kiss the sky for them all, <br>paralyzed in the shadows of their own gigantism <br>as the tragic heroes bemoaned how useless their deaths were<br>to those who were determined to live to the end of the play.</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=476461" data-title="Among The Skeletons Of The Sundials de Patrick White" data-description="Among the skeletons of the sundials 
what deficits of time remain unlived, unfulfilled? 
So much forfeited to what crowded it out. 
And the more that was said, the more 
fraudulent and incomplete what we wanted to sing. 

Too many murmuring window..."></div>
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