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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476574" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Feel Like There's A Beast</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Feel like there's a beast in the darkness <br>	eating my eyes. <br>		I'm a moon-bull<br>at a crossroads of solar swords <br>	down on it knees <br>		hemorrhaging like a poppy. <br>And there are constellations <br>	I've never heard before <br>		playing the harp of my horns <br>with pensive fingertips. <br>	How strange this rag of life <br>		soaked in tears and blood is. <br>Everything dies like a snowflake on a furnace, <br>	a rock on an autumn mountain, <br>		no two the same. <br>There are nights, there are <br>	vigils of darkness <br>		when the mirror can no longer bear <br>the weight of this feather of fire, <br>	this vision of life <br>		that estranges the spirit <br>of those who love it most <br>	like a funeral bell <br>		that once drank to the folly of love. <br>I am a snakepit of lightning <br>	knotted in a glacier of ice<br>		and every emotion <br>is the undertow of the tide in a sea of eyes <br>	on the cold skull of the moon, <br>		every thought, a stone lifeboat<br>inundated by the waves <br>	it's convinced it's saving from drowning.<br>		Once I was the dupe <br>of my own ideals, <br>	now I am the master of none. <br>		This far into the abyss<br>you forget the name of the god <br>	you died in the name of; <br>		you have squandered your certainty<br>on greater and greater risks, <br>	the enciphered lotteries of mythic necessity, <br>		only to discover, <br>though you traversed eras like deserts <br>	that made a skull of your faith, <br>		the donkeys have eaten all the mangers, <br>and there is as much radiance in the eye <br>	of the dead serpent on the road <br>		as there is the eyelash of a star.<br>A tear is not a fountain of seeing, <br>	nor a dropp of blood, a rose. <br>		How rare the sword in its silence <br>among all these chatty scissors at war<br>	trying to cut along the dotted lines <br>		of their border highways<br>crammed with refugees <br>	they once called lovers, <br>		the horizon slashed <br>and bleeding like a letter. <br>	I want to calculate the half-life of pain; <br>		the pillar of ore it calls home; <br>the elemental devolution of its atomic evictions <br>	into the leaden passion of a base metal. <br>		I want to know what I've turned into.<br>I want to know what's making the stars <br>	throw down their spears of light at my feet<br>		though my heart's out in the open <br>like a voodoo doll <br>	waiting for a donor transplant. <br>		I want to see myself <br>opening a door in the mirror <br>	to someone with absolute eyes <br>		irrevocable as yesterday's rain.<br>Let the star know <br>	the flower it engenders; <br>		let the rose <br>taste its own honey.<br>	Blind in a dream; blind, <br>		what light roots in the darkness <br>that I should want to <br>	throw off this robe of blood like a sky <br>		to slip through the eye of the needle <br>that binds the seams of this world <br>	like a bird<br>		with the single thread of a life in its beak, <br> washed out of God's eye<br>	like a firefly snuffed <br>		in a torrential downpour of stars? <br>Why am I <br>	always one heart too many <br>		over the threshold of the truth <br>I had to leave home to discover? <br>	Am I a hoax in tears <br>		or a tear away from a gate and a rafter? <br>Let the wave know the sea <br>	that packs its caravan on the moon, <br>		let the silence of the waking abyss <br>write indelible preludes <br>	with a last kiss<br>		that goes on forever <br>like the white autumn wind<br>in a turmoil of seeds<br>	that demonically exceed <br>the life they're after, <br>	flower by flower, <br>		death by death<br>like the pulse of a bell <br>	setting the doves free <br>		in the towers of farewell.<br>It's the eloquence of a tree <br>	to say what life is <br>		when the full moon ripens <br>in its leafless branches <br>	and the heart beats <br>		like a windfall of silver apples, <br>though I have tried, <br>	but love is a bridge <br>		on a finger of water <br>that not even the moon <br>	can slip off like a ring <br>		when the wind rises<br>like a gaping fish <br>	to swallow the chimes and eyehooks <br>		of its matriculate ripples.<br>And with each breath of the night <br>	I took and returned, <br>		I have aspired to succeed <br>at every failure I was ever inspired by.<br>	I raised every sail, <br>		crossed every wave, <br>every eyelid, every petal<br>	of the sea of life <br>		in the heart of the rose<br>only to dropp the first crescent of the moon <br>	like an anchor <br>		in the furnace of a dream.</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=476574" data-title="Feel Like There's A Beast de Patrick White" data-description="Feel like there's a beast in the darkness 
	eating my eyes. 
		I'm a moon-bull
at a crossroads of solar swords 
	down on it knees 
		hemorrhaging like a poppy. 
And there are constellations 
	I've never heard before 
		playing the harp of my horns..."></div>
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