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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476507" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Black Fire</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Evaporating in a black fire. <br>	Don't want to drink the night from the window again. <br>		Won't be a chain trying to escape itself<br>when I'm already free, <br>but what an affront of mirrors to be so diminished <br>		because the lions of fire, the dragons<br>that flare from the eye of the black sun, <br>	their shadows spanning the heartless abyss <br>		of their ferocious lucidities, <br>pitched their wings like huge, black tents of night <br>	at the gates of the wide-eyed gazelles of emotion<br>		they could bed freely under the moon, <br>unspool in the blue grass silvered by the wind, <br>	their eyelids waning like a glass of wine. <br>		In the obvious light of the morning <br>they will run from lesser hunters <br>	mistaking the truce of nightblood <br>		on the horn of the moon <br>for a rag of surrender, a gesture of clarity <br>	like a star in a well, <br>		the signet of an ancient moment<br>when the abyss returns to itself <br>	like the echo of a wounded voice<br>		to heal at the foot of a throne of shadows. <br>Though I could have stung like a serpent, <br>	I was the wind at your heel once, once <br>		like the wind I would have sowed the path before you <br>with seeds that would have bloomed like the eyes of the stars, <br>	I would have saturated the air with lachrymose diamonds, <br>		and poured the oil of the only lantern of my afterlife out like rain<br>so you could have shone like a rainbow at night<br>	and your roots were luminously charged <br>		with vital urges of mystic lightning. <br>I would have come to you like a flashflood of silver on the moon <br>	and run the labyrinth of dry creekbeds <br>		that scar the lifelines on your palm.<br>I would have kissed the black rose awake from its dream <br>	of being stoned for a miscreance of the light, <br>		and held the nightsky up to its beauty <br>like the forbidden side of a mirror <br>	to jewel the eclipse you wear like a face.<br>		I would have lain down beside you <br>like the shore of an unmapped island beside the sea <br>	and answered every wave of your incoming tide <br>		with a nightbird in the mouth of a bell of blood<br>that ripened in a watchtower on the moon, <br>	but every kiss was a translucent jellyfish, <br>		the auroral rose of an ambivalent Medusa <br>rooted in the lethal snakepit, <br>	the toxic electricity of her stoned hair, <br>		the trawling storm of her decapitated tresses<br>when the truth struck like an unexpected fang of light. <br>	Now you spend your time <br>		trying to tie knots in your spinal cord <br>like the severed filament of the moon, <br>	trying to wick amputated candles in the darkness <br>		that might help you grope your way <br>back to your head <br>	like the black hole that became of the star <br>		that went looking for its lost planet <br>like a blind shepherd startled awake by the howling of wolves <br>	running across the sky in a wilder freedom <br>		above the timberline of your eyelashes, <br>tinkling in the glass womb of your brittle shining <br>	like the tungsten crumbs of a burnt-out dream. <br>		Even now you don't understand<br>how you can pour so much of yourself into yourself <br>	like an ingrown hair, your love <br>		merely an idea infatuated with itself <br>that your eyeshadow festers like a palette of gangrene<br>	and like me the vision won't paint you again<br>		in the vivid constellations and kells of braille<br>you insisted on reading backwards <br>	in the troubled mirror of your own perversity.<br>		No rose in the shadow of the black Pegasus <br>born from the blood that pours from the vase of your neck <br>	like a dead bouquet of poppies, no inspiration <br>		in the petrified skulls of your past lovers <br>scattered like the beads of a broken rosary at your feet <br>	you once fingered carelessly<br> like the writing on the wall.</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=476507" data-title="Black Fire de Patrick White" data-description="Evaporating in a black fire. 
	Don't want to drink the night from the window again. 
		Won't be a chain trying to escape itself
when I'm already free, 
but what an affront of mirrors to be so diminished 
		because the lions of fire, the dragons
th..."></div>
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