Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476539" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Darkness, Let Me Enter</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Darkness, let me enter. Oblivion, open your arms. <br>Sweet liberty, lengthen my chain by light years. <br>Venus in the Pleiades, let me feel your charms. <br>I want to ride the light, o yes I do, as far as I can<br>toward some flowering of the mystery <br>I can add myself to and bloom as the stars do. <br>My most intimate familiar, solitude, eras of it, <br>yet it's never known my name. My best feature <br>once you get pass the indignation and the anger, <br>compassion. And though love seems to me <br>the sum of many hearts, trying to express itself <br>as one, when have I not been a doorway to the dead? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When have I ever preferred my happiness <br>even as my last rainbow bridge went up in flames<br>and there was no where else to cross before the falls, <br>to that of the ironic beatitudes of the forbidden and the blessed? <br>Make me a star again one day with a few habitable planets, <br>each with at least one moon that can make me crazy as this one.<br>Promise? Promise me it will be so and mean it. <br>I will continue. I will keep on. I will endure like a mountain<br>that never capitulated volcanically to my own rage.<br>I'll walk the road standing up. I'll traverse it on my knees. <br>I'll be the nightbird. The green bough. The apple bloom. <br>I've learned. I'll listen. And when I'm overwhelmed by words, <br>I'll give you my voice and let you speak for yourself. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Whoever, whatever, you are not or you are, <br>though I hear you're too ineffable to get to know, <br>should the day ever come you want to disclose yourself <br>like a hidden secret that wants to be known, <br>I'll understand that, I'll be the night in your mirror<br>that shows you four hundred billion stars in the eyes <br>of as many life forms and more in the multiverse <br>than you can see without being astonished by the beauty <br>of all the secrets you've kept to yourself for light years.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even if I'm just talking to myself like a waterclock<br>pouring my mindstream from one ear into another, <br>whether you're there or not, or just the matriculated anima <br>of a pineal gland projected onto a holographic space time continuum, <br>and my spirit be no more than my own breath <br>condensing on the diminishing window of this cold sky<br>where I write the name of someone I've never met <br>with a frost-bit finger, longing for encounters I won't regret, <br>let me flow into your awareness like a wavelength <br>into a river of light or let me burn in the immutable darkness <br>a firefly of thought, a thread of lightning, a distant star, <br>a thinning fragrance of a wildflower you might have known <br>a long time ago that reminds you of someone<br>so many changes away from anyone you'd recognize today.<br>I'm not looking for someone to whine to. <br>I've been omnidirectional since I turned forty-five <br>so I don't need anyone to tell me where I'm going.<br>I'm not looking for a soft shoulder of the road to cry on. <br>After so many nights of laying my head <br>on this hard rock pillow of a world <br>that's refeathering itself in scales and razorblades<br>I'm not dissing the occult wisdom of my consolation dreams.<br>The way it seems is the way it appears. Let it. <br>I grew up on the streets, drastically. I know how<br>to break a mirror in case of a catastrophe. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Just let me pretend for awhile out here in the woods <br>where I always feel as a human it's the first day <br>of a kid in the schoolyard until I make friends with an owl <br>or the occasional, curious bush wolf wondering <br>what I'm doing so far off my natural turf, and why, <br>just like a dog from the city abandoned on a farm <br>I feel so disowned sometimes I should learn <br>to snarl back at the moon when it bares its fangs at me<br>instead of baying its praises to the rest of the asylum.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Just let me suppose for awhile that a poet <br>isn't the orphan of the absurd, that there's <br>a bloodline of meaning that still seeps into everything <br>like the dye of a black rose in the night that steeps the heart<br>in all frequencies and colours of the clear light of the void<br>that tastes like the mystic poetry of the waters of life <br>on the tongue of a stranger who's just wandered in from the desert, <br>his lips dusty with the stars he's been drinking <br>from an hourglass rimed with sand and salt. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I don't want to receive everything only to find out <br>I prayed for nothing, so I won't, but if you're <br>the shapeshifting creatrix of subtle intelligence<br>I intuit you might be sometimes when I'm alone<br>with the stars like a childhood that hasn't forgotten me, <br>and there's a sudden breeze out of nowhere <br>that grazes the back of my neck like a sabre of the moon <br>so close I could swear we were lovers in another life, <br>light a candle for me somewhere in the universe, <br>and you be the light by which the light is known. <br>Show me your smile like moonrise on the lake.<br>Let me see your eyes in the rain, so inter-reflected <br>they can't help shining out of everything as if <br>no one could keep you a secret for long, except you, <br>and for the moment, at least, I'm not accepting this. <br>Don't care if I'm painting a lifemask to put on an abyss<br>of molecular indifference. You should see the tears <br>I've smeared under my eyes to save face<br>with the sacred clowns I've been from time to time. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">You keep your distance and I'll play hard to get as well.<br>You take one step toward me, and I'll go the rest of the way. <br>Devotion's always been a weakness of mine. One sign<br>and I'll light up like an esoteric zodiac that just went electric. <br>I'll meet you on a bridge at midnight, and I won't forget<br>when fire comes down to the water's edge, fire <br>has to use the bridge as well. Just tell me that you care, <br>if not for me, for all these humans that die like roadkill <br>stunned by the highbeams of oncoming circumstance <br>as if nothing in life, however rightly or wrongly, <br>however young or old the blood on the hands of the clock <br>that kills them as if they were as devoid of characteristics as you<br>could console them for the loss of what they dared to hold close. <br>That's the gamma ray burst of the protest that has kept us apart<br>since my innocence first started bleeding in childhood <br>for the impersonality that mutilates 3.5 billion years of evolution, <br>the sum of all our infirmities and strengths, as if there were<br>nothing to cherish or venerate in us, like a homeless drunk <br>beaten to death on a fire-escape in a back alley just for the fun of it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That's the thorn in my heart. I watched my mother <br>half beaten to death three times by my father before I was seven<br>and it wasn't you, it was me, that picked up the ax <br>to put a stop to it. Who could aspire to heaven<br>when that's going on in the snakepit at your feet? <br>How do you return to your toy truck after <br>the cop cars and the ambulance has left with your mother <br>and the absence is so terrifying even the nightmares <br>don't dare echo an answer that isn't an atrocity of guile <br>that lies to a child about the good that will come out of it. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I'm sixty-four now and ever since my eyes were pryed open <br>like the petals of a flower that wasn't ready to bloom yet, <br>everywhere I look, the indignity and ferocity <br>of intrusive happenstance inflicting itself upon life <br>with a few intermittent truces to lick our wounds <br>like razorblades in candied apples. Yes, I stand my ground. <br>Knock me down. I'll get up again. And I'll carry my pain <br>in my heart, in my voice, in my art, my blood, my arms, <br>in the urn of everything I've ever cherished<br>like a silver eagle, a placard, a birthmark back into the tear gas<br>of the last crusade that never had a chance, if I must, <br>until the human divinity that broke the seal of our suffering, <br>small as our light may be now, leaves an indelible impression<br>upon space and time, or you, if you're there, <br>like the labyrinth of a fingerprint you can't ignore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I'm not asking for an emergency exit, <br>just take the gate off the entrance and let everyone in <br>on the secret of why everything seems so brutally true<br>in the bright vacancy, dark abundance of your absence, <br>and I'll dance with you in a garden on the moon <br>until the lemons turn blue as the wild grapes in late October<br>when you shall be my folly. And I shall be your fool.</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>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<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=476539" data-title="Darkness, Let Me Enter de Patrick White" data-description="Darkness, let me enter. Oblivion, open your arms. 
Sweet liberty, lengthen my chain by light years. 
Venus in the Pleiades, let me feel your charms. 
I want to ride the light, o yes I do, as far as I can
toward some flowering of the mystery 
I can..."></div>
</div>
</div>