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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476465" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>And It Comes And It Takes, It Levels And It Defies</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">And it comes and it takes, it levels and it defies. <br>And not all the sorrow in the world <br>is enough to cool the burn. Will death make <br>as big a splash as birth did when it jumped in the pond? <br>How will you die? At home in bed <br>with your kids banked around you <br>like a zodiac of grieving signs, head on <br>at seventeen into a drunk ambulance<br>like a suicide you backed into like a ventriloquist <br>afraid to call your own bluff? Heart attack, cancer, <br>eating the Angel of Death like the wrong mushroom <br>in a rainy spring, your extinction, one of seven<br>horrible oddities of random selection to make the news <br>like a public health warning not to take the chance? <br>And you, having just finished medical school? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The wise man dies, the fool, the lover, the glutton and baby.<br>Death plays solitaire by opening and closing doors. <br>Death is not amused by the meaning of our lives. <br>Death doesn't read the menu <br>of what we've avoided and cherished. <br>It comes and it takes, it levels and it defies. <br>Are you going to die like an old woman <br>evaporating in her sleep like a dream lingering on a lake <br>until the dawn mistakes her for a ghost <br>and brushes her aside like a spider-web? <br>Pity the poor body's infantile helplessness at the end. <br>Pity the terror in the eyes of the imprisoned one <br>who could feel his chains slipping away like a spinal cord <br>into an immaculate freedom ungoverned by circumstance. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even the stars, chalk on a blackboard, and death, <br>the brush that wipes them away before the next class. <br>As it is with the flowers, the jewel of life is slowly <br>pried out of our hands with soft crowbars of sunlight.<br>God, how we labour to leave something behind <br>like a fragrance of our having been here once <br>like a human on a hillside deeply in love with the clouds. <br>Death panics us into believing we're achieving <br>something enduring and benign, but truth is, <br>given that one good can adumbrate another that's tragic, <br>we're just setting our heads on fire like matches<br>to add our blazing to the darkness of the blind.<br>We strike, we ignite, we flare, we fade like a daylily <br>into an abyss of stars we're all apprenticed to<br>and the light goes out like a firefly in a black hole.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or we're as indelible as a menage a trois of water.<br>The triune identity of existence, three phases of the moon. <br>No onceness to our being here forever. <br>Persist in beginning and you condemn yourself to death. <br>The jewel turns you in the light of your infinite facets. <br>Your eyes turn to you and ask what they're looking at. <br>Death wants an explanation for what you're up to. <br>And life couldn't care less whether you had one or not. <br>A dead child can lead you to enlightenment <br>and a live one to despair. Two hinges of the same gate, <br>putting their hands together in prayer like birds on the wing. <br>We live in pain. We live in unexpected bliss. But what we are <br>is imaginations beyond this. We embrace life. We dis death. <br>We separate. We hold lanterns up to the fog <br>like empty lifeboats far out at sea at night but what if <br>everyone swam safely ashore as they did <br>in their mothers' wombs? We aren't drowned out <br>like the cosmic hiss of negligible wavelengths <br>that once accomplished mighty things. The senses <br>don't age into old colours and old sounds. <br>Whatever you reach out to touch is as new and forever as now. <br>Has it ever been this day before you woke up to it? <br>Did yellow die overnight? Did red have a heart attack? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Inside. Outside. There are no walls in this palace of space. <br>No doors you have to enter seriatum. No locks to undo.<br>No ordeals to endure. No sod to turn over like a gravedigger <br>to lay a foundation stone that's the whole of the building<br>as if you buried a turtle under its own shell. <br>A song bird under an iron bell. The sacred syllable <br>of a black pearl under the tongue of an oyster. To no avail. <br>The wave rides you like a flying carpet, not a sail<br>that has to wait for the wind to arise again or the tide to crest. <br>It's just like a photon of insight. When you look at it <br>trying to grasp it as something fixed in your mind, <br>it acts just like the particle you were expecting to see, <br>but as soon as you turn your eye away from it, <br>it slips away from you like the cosine of a snake <br>back into its own chameleonic medium of water and light. <br>Everywhere is the centre of your boundlessness<br>like the nave of a wheel on a hearse <br>that doesn't equate once around the sun on its axis <br>with the distance of the journey in time and space and mind <br>it takes to realize, whatever size of the circumference you make <br>like the ripples of interlocking bracelets of rain <br>or tree rings in the heartwood of a black walnut <br>that all fixed points in the wheeling world turn on zero.<br>That there's not a wavelength of difference between <br>what is and is not, that you've been attributing an identity <br>to things that emerged with you from the polymorphous perverse <br>in order to recognize a self distinct from the universe <br>that mothered it into existence out of nothing <br>but the dark nature of life to fuel the mind<br>with the radiance of diamonds burning in the light <br>without anyone or anything ever being consumed<br>or the night diminished like an ageing constellation <br>by even so much as a single vital sign <br>of unending exploration carrying forth of its own accord <br>The lamp bears the flame that lends the lamp its eyes.<br>When the flame goes out, everything it's every seen <br>and been and tried to mean goes with it into <br>worlds within worlds that keep adapting themselves to you<br>like stars to the eyes of those who keep looking back at them <br>as the source of their own shining by a river<br>that's constantly changing shapes in its flowing <br>to reflect the mind's protean approach to the inconceivable.<br>And it comes and it takes, it levels and it defies, <br>but you can look upon it with the luminous eyes <br>of enlightened mirrors that can see whole worlds <br>abounding in every piece it breaks to improve the view.</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=476465" data-title="And It Comes And It Takes, It Levels And It Defies de Patrick White" data-description="And it comes and it takes, it levels and it defies. 
And not all the sorrow in the world 
is enough to cool the burn. Will death make 
as big a splash as birth did when it jumped in the pond? 
How will you die? At home in bed 
with your kids banke..."></div>
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