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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476474" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>And The Rose</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the rose of someone else’s dawn, <br>	a warning to drowned sailors, <br>		mingling in the shadows and the leaves<br>just beyond the bay of the window where I stand <br> with my last afterlife <br>		like a star in a shoe. <br>And there are voyages I’ll never make <br>	and ones I have <br>		for the sake of the going, <br>for the islands and the witches, the sirens<br>	and the green flames of the fairies<br>		that crept out from under <br>the stone of my heart <br>	like a crown of petals, eyelashes, <br>		cool palings of fire., <br>and danced for the honey and the gold <br>	from the paper hive <br>		softened from stone<br>they had made of my life in ashes.<br>	And there’s not much difference<br>		between a sky and a sea, <br>no two wardrobes ever the same, <br>	an expanse of space and skin, <br>		wide palms of water, <br>and the confluence of lifelines <br>	the deltas and the rivers, <br>		the arteries and veins	<br>the lightning and the branches, <br>weeping on a windowpane, <br>	the fossils of leftover tears<br>that winced like an eye <br>	in the hair of the jellyfish<br>		that washed up out of their agony<br>like rain. And there are fools I’ve been <br>	that don’t remember me<br>		and lighthouses on the moon<br>that didn’t heed their own advice. <br>	But there was always something<br> truer in the absurdity, <br>a mystery or a jewel, the memory<br>	of a face I’d never seen, <br>		some annihilation <br>with a threshold of stars<br>	I’d never crossed, a whisper <br>		of light, a fragrance, a voice <br>singing to itself in a lonely place <br>	that put my caution to shame. <br>		And it’s been my life to go, <br>to cross, to enter, to know<br> the lostness as my own, <br>	and the darkness and the solitude<br>where I begin and end<br>	like water taken from the river <br>		and the river returned<br>as the moorings of the emptiness <br>	I took for a boat <br>like a face<br>between the pages of my hands, <br>	and all in the name of some nightbird<br>		some shadow of a wing <br>that covered my heart <br>	with such a quick eclipse <br>		that no one even noticed I was gone. <br>Poetry, love, life; the shore is one thing<br>	but the sea another, <br>		and it’s not that I was brave<br>or thought I could walk on water <br>	or had a secret starmap, <br>		wiser than the rest; <br>I looked into the abyss with a shudder, <br>	as if I had to kiss <br>		a cobra on the head<br>or enter a spider’s womb<br>	without being caught, <br>		for the terrible acceptance <br>of what I sought<br>	beyond the starless gates<br>		and moth warnings <br>of the usual taboos. Every terror<br>	scales a treasure, and the dragon<br>		masks its secret, <br>not meant for the circumspect, <br>	in risk. The sane prefer heaven<br>		but heaven isn’t for the sane<br>who don’t know how to die enough<br>	to answer the sphinxes and grails.<br>		And it’s made me <br>a heretic of the heart, <br>	a rogue star, a poet, <br>		to live this way, <br>drinking the black wine <br>	that was offered me<br>		from the skulls <br>that lined the mouth <br>	of the mysterious death <br>		in the doorway <br>of every true entrance.<br>	And it’s not the lies <br>		that kill you, <br>nor the truths, <br>	or looking through<br>		a hole in the fence<br>at things you were never meant to see, <br>	the medusa making love <br>		to an apple-tree, <br>or Isis naked behind her veils<br>	that no one’s ever lifted; <br>		it’s returning <br>the way you came <br>	from the wells <br>		of the transformations, <br>the mountains of the muses, <br>	the islands and the trees <br>		of seduction and death, <br>unchanged, your tears still tears <br>	not jewels of the blood, <br>		and your voice, <br>not the fire of poison-tipped spears.</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=476474" data-title="And The Rose de Patrick White" data-description="And the rose of someone else’s dawn, 
	a warning to drowned sailors, 
		mingling in the shadows and the leaves
just beyond the bay of the window where I stand 
 with my last afterlife 
		like a star in a shoe. 
And there are voyages I’ll never..."></div>
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