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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476615" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Humbled On Earth, Exalted By A Star</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Humbled on earth, exalted by a star, <br>I say nothing and wait for the echo.<br>It's bad with me tonight, more than I can bear. <br>I'm in isolation, but I don't know where. <br>And there's a half moon apricot blossom <br>over the roof of a bookstore that swears <br>that it's a scar. Maybe so. But there you go. <br>Why blame your eyes for what they see? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Venus earlier tonight, that was the key <br>to a thousand doors of insight <br>without a threshold among them <br>to say how far the light had travelled <br>just to get to me. O, yes, no doubt, beauty, <br>and time-shares in eternity you can't forget<br>all that easily. Something sharp and cold <br>and romantically aloof, diffuse, smeared <br>like a name on a window someone signed <br>in their own breath, as the night cooled down <br>like a glorious life into a homely death. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Crazy-wisdom, but without a path.<br>I followed the river to a sacred syllable <br>of a single dropp of water on the tongue of a leaf. <br>Though my immutable present be the aftermath <br>of flowers after a funeral, a skull with a laurel wreath, <br>just because I steal fire, doesn't make me inflammable.<br> <br>Slow and sad, among my myriad mirages <br>and heart-dwarfing immensities. What is this? <br>What is that? I keep asking myself <br>so I don't have to listen to my own answers<br>as if someone were here to explain them to me.<br>Trying to saddle a bubble on the moon <br>and rise to the surface like a seahorse <br>to see if I can ride off like Venus <br>into a sunset somewhere with atmosphere.<br>Is this a labyrinth? Is this a cul de sac? <br>I embody a silence deeper than death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Forgive me, mother. Forgive me Apple laptop. <br>I didn't ask for this afterlife. It's the sum <br>of what I had left after I ransomed myself <br>from those who would have deprived me <br>of this tragicomedy with pastoral overtones<br>I'm living now like a whole new golden age <br>still in the ore, but reputed to be there, <br>though I don't hope for too much anymore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And it's o.k o.k. o.k. o.k.<br>I've got a place to sleep, a painting on the go, <br>a poem toying with me, two cans of tuna, one<br>of sardines, half a loaf of bread, and a clean window <br>to look through when I want to disappear<br>into the aura of sidereal distances<br>that backstops the rooftops of Perth <br>with an atmosphere that just isn't another <br>bubble of glass, and offer myself to the moon <br>as a qualified substitute for what it's lost.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Probably good to serve some function in life <br>you know about, even if you've got to <br>make one up for yourself while you're waiting<br>for the inevitable to come back for your shadow, <br>just to say thanks to everything, good or bad, <br>for why you're watching Venus in the sunset, <br>as if you once had a personal relationship with it<br>like the third eye of a telescope that thought<br>it must notice you, if you stare long enough <br>into the nothing, face to face, with a deep love <br>of the universe that has abided me <br>so much longer than I would have.</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=476615" data-title="Humbled On Earth, Exalted By A Star de Patrick White" data-description="Humbled on earth, exalted by a star, 
I say nothing and wait for the echo.
It's bad with me tonight, more than I can bear. 
I'm in isolation, but I don't know where. 
And there's a half moon apricot blossom 
over the roof of a bookstore that swear..."></div>
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