<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476616" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>I Am A Dragon</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I am a dragon, <br> but I’ve got cloudy teeth. <br> You are a vase among jars, <br>a feather among scales. <br> Obviously you are the sea <br> and I am the seabed.<br>In the darkness you are the shining. <br> I come to you <br> like lead to an alchemist, <br>base metal to gold. <br> Already I am transformed<br> by your mirrors of fire. <br>There is a light, a glow, <br> invisible but more illuminating, <br> not of the moon, or sun, or a star, <br>but of the heart and mind, <br> the light of life itself <br> when it’s the only candle in the room <br>dancing behind its veil of shadows, <br> and in the least filament <br> of the down upon your thighs, <br>there are suffusions of fireflies and galaxies, <br> mystic lanterns <br> ripening like apricots <br>over the open doors of worlds within, <br> over eyes that bloom like wild asters <br> rooted in the earthly fields of the heart. <br>I have been a ghost <br> trying to say itself into existence; <br> and my bread and my blood <br>have been the whisper and breath of you. <br> Not the mountains, not <br> the mothering floors of the wheat seas, <br>not the forests or the hills or the rivers, <br> not the ladders or roads or miles between us, <br> nor the seasons of the threshing clock, <br>have kept us one eyelash apart; <br> we have been wings to each other; <br> we have been the secret tides of the rose <br>in a bay of blood to one another; <br> we have been the substance of a dream <br> that lingers like the impression in cool grass <br>of where the deer slept the night before. <br> In the flights of winter birds, <br> on moist winter days, <br>I have rehearsed endless summers to come, <br> when the sky whispered your eyes<br> in bells of sidereal fragrance<br>into the abyss of my longing for you<br> and love seemed a petal of light on the wind, <br> and you were that petal, <br>and I was that wind. <br> And though I have stood for eras <br> on this bridge of night alone <br>waiting for you like a letter, an afterlife, <br> a voice of fire in a well urgent with stars<br> I want to live with you, <br>we have always embraced, not two, <br> arrow and bow, <br> pilgrim and shrine, <br>release and enlightenment<br> reflected in these visions <br>the insistent palettes of the heart <br>paint on the impassioned waters <br>of the deepening lifestream.<br> I have been a storm of blood and stars; <br>I have drowned in the crypts of my own tears <br> and learned to breathe through a new medium, <br> set the crown of my fin on a rose of gills, <br>and bloom in a mythically enhanced <br> immensity of sorrows, <br> and the shadows under my eyes <br>have mourned for me <br>like black bells in a tower of thorns, <br> two horses of night chained to a heart <br>that dragged itself around like a hearse <br> looking for a lost grave.<br> I buried myself in women<br>who were torn like the satin lining <br> out of a coffin just <br> when they were about to give birth.<br>Their pain always tasted of an afterlife <br> that danced like lightning on the tip of my tongue<br> until my blood caught fire<br>like a rose with a voice of wine.<br> Black, apostate, madonnas <br> of body, heart, and mystery, <br>even the moon a bead of devotion <br> on a thread of their blood, <br> a dream vow under the eyelid of an eclipse.<br>I never knew what to say <br> that wasn’t a life shy <br> of an inadequate skeleton <br>trying to reflesh itself with the ashes <br> of its last sidereal cremation.<br> I was born again and again <br>like a sword drawn out of a stone<br> to hurl my humanity <br> like a sparrow <br>against the windows and eyes of the gods.<br> They knew I was right <br> to live the prophecy <br>written in the book of my wings by the wind, <br> but their tears fell like glass rice<br> on the stairwells of the bridal mirrors<br>that wept like silver serpents <br> at the heels of the moon<br> and whatever road I walked, <br>whatever direction I wandered in <br> like a drunken river <br> I passed through my own ribs <br>like an opening gate<br> to a sealess exile on the moon, <br> a lighthouse to the sail of a ghost in a desert.<br>Events of the spirit, <br> and the imported executioners <br> of tormented ecstasies <br>that made our bodies shudder with oblivion<br> until even our shadows glowed <br> like feathers of light <br>that glutted the abyss we pillowed like stone <br> to lay our heads down upon and dream, <br> every emotion, <br>keyed like a highwire <br> over the infinite emptiness <br> of a guitar in the corner of a tomb<br>eating the dust of a blackboard <br> that schooled the scrawl of the angels <br> into the writing on the wall.<br>How many lovers have perished in me <br> like the rings and eras of a tree, <br> and what enormities of childhood it takes <br>to sweeten a single ruby of fruit, <br> what tides of blood and light <br> collapsing like eyelids on the mystic circus <br>that pulled off miracles <br> under the sheets and skies and skin <br> of our lascivious tents: <br>now I am a dunce in a wizard’s hat, <br> a cone of light, <br> the pillar of a fallen shadow, <br>freeing the wings of wounded birds <br> from the nets and mesh of the stars. <br> I am a dragon <br>with the soul of a bridge to here and now, <br> a weed on the stairs of an unknown temple <br> to a god that sweeps me away like ashes <br>with the broom of my shadow, <br> and my face is the footprint of the wind <br> as flowers are the footprints of the light, <br>and my heart is a pebble <br> I keep dropping down a well <br> to listen for an echo from the depths, <br>for a whisper of fire on the water, <br> to deliver me like a burning dove <br> with a leaf of the moon in its beak, <br>a letter from you, <br> to say there is a south of the heart <br> that can thaw this arctic desolation<br>that overtakes me like an ageless night <br> as my thoughts fall away <br> like the flames of descending matches, <br>like angels and demons <br> tilted from heaven, <br> from the plane of their orbital hearts, <br>toppled like towers and lighthouses <br> by an urge to kiss their own reflections.<br> I am a dragon <br>chained to the nightrain <br> that inks the roots of the locust tree <br> with thorns and stars and flowers, <br>and my blood is a dusky mess of dawns and ancient sunsets. <br> My heart was scaled like the moon <br> by the phases of an empty cup, <br>my eyes were birdless skies <br> and nothing flew higher <br> than the feathered shadows of the trees <br>that roosted in the grass like water, <br> and there were no tears left <br> in the wineskin of the heart <br>withered like a lily that bloomed for a day, <br> the soft clarion of a bruised trumpet. <br> Now I think of you<br>so many nights and miles away, <br> and I walk like a bridge toward you, <br> and my wings are spread out <br>like the pages of ample skies <br> that have yet to be written on by the stars, <br> and I must blow on my longing to be with you <br>like a spoonful of hot diamonds<br> just to keep the deserts of my thought <br> from etherealizing the tropics of my blood, <br>my eyes evaporating like crucial oases <br> in the heat of these visions <br> that burn the air <br>with fountains of fire <br>in this tavern of mystic passions<br> where I drink alone to you, <br>the furnace of my blood <br> silked like a black poppy <br> when I reach out, <br>a tree in winter, <br> the afterlife of lightning, <br> to touch your face like the moon.<br>I have been a lonely crusade of one <br> fighting for the gravestone of a dead god<br> enthroned in the leaf-fire of his falling, <br>lost in his dream like salt in the sea of the world, <br> stars in the seed of the apple, <br> a shadow devoted to the cause of the wind. <br>I am an era of scars <br> inspired by the talons of the moon <br> seizing my heart like a rag of meat<br>in these elevated bone-bowls of birth and death. <br> I have been a poet among humans, <br> an indignant warrior of the heart <br>with an army of seasoned candles<br> reconnoitering distant fires in the night<br> that bloomed like the breath <br>of insurmountable divinities <br>gathering like birds <br> in the border hills of the darkness<br>that always took the form of a luminous woman <br> bathing naked in a sea of eyeless windows. <br> Crowned like an apple star <br>for the brilliance of my defeats, <br> I fall like a key of crazy sugar, <br> a mysterious elixir of midnight orchids, <br>a squall of renegade stars <br> into the transformative valleys and bays<br> of your forbidden paradise, <br>happier than a fireproof heretic in the flames, <br> singing into the abyss of an unknown god<br> that has robed my heart like a wounded boat, <br>a solitary on his island, <br>in these auroral tides <br>that play my blood like the pulse <br>of this keyboard of light <br> where I drown like a stone messiah<br> true to the excruciations of his faith <br>in these delinquent oceans of you.<br> All my poems, chalk-dust, <br> all my mystic nightbirds iron weathervanes<br>bent by the lightning toward earth <br> like the forlorn hope of a battered metal, <br> all my paintings a bleeding and bruising of snow, <br>and the sincerity of the ways I got lost<br> in this labyrinth of mirrors <br> unspooling like a thread of blood<br>from an immortally wounded star, <br> an agony of human fire <br> rooted in the voice of the wind like a bird <br>the abyss of a night without bounds <br> squanders on the supremacy <br> of the oldest silence <br>time ever distilled from the eyes of the dead, <br> the perjury of a perishing light, <br> if I did not love your ashes and orchards more, <br>the way you tear your constellations <br> on the thorns of the moon<br> and bleed like black silk <br>for an innocence that never found its way home.<br> I can taste the dark prophecies <br> and oracles of infernal delight <br>written in scars on the dangerous mushroom <br> of your nuclear body, <br> and flow like the silt of stars, <br> white mountain gold and night honey, <br> through the hives and deltas<br> that enshrine the ore of the rose.<br>I can prolong the dawn like the wishbone of a note <br> broken like a harp <br> in the throats of the singing masters of the flesh. <br>I can blood the night with a fever of poppies<br> and scoop weeping diamonds <br> from the black fountain <br>in the furnace-heart of an electric glacier.<br> I can wield ecstasy <br>like a blade of the moon bewitched by its wound.<br>I can untie the knots and nooses <br> in the spinal cord of the butterfly<br> pinned like a calendar of eclipses, <br>a quarantined blossom, <br> to a dead branch under a bell of glass<br> and wire Eden back<br>to the infernal nerve of the lightning <br> that severed the afterbirth of the moon <br> from the dark mother in the garden <br>like an angel with a slash of fire at the gate. <br> I know how to make love <br> like an embassy of shadows <br>to the most distant longings of a woman in exile.<br> I can pour the oil of winged serpents <br> into the lamp<br>and entice a ghost of snow <br> to dance naked in the fire.<br> I can lead the lost cloud <br>out of the mountains of the key <br> to the doorway of candles and stars <br> enshrined in the skulls of seeing. <br>And even when I turn my back <br> on the darkest flowers of fire in my roots <br> to rise up like rain <br>into the immeasurable wingspan <br> of these desert clarities <br> that bead me like a caravan<br>of nomadic moons, <br> no more than a breath of light <br> in a gust of stars, <br>I’m still only a ladder of thresholds away <br> from stealing you away<br> from the refugees and shadows <br>that crowd your room <br>like the night sky <br> through the astounded vowel of an open window.</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=476616" data-title="I Am A Dragon de Patrick White" data-description="I am a dragon, but I’ve got cloudy teeth. You are a vase among jars, a feather among scales. Obviously you are the sea and I am the seabed. In the darkness you are the shining. I come to you like lead to an alchemist, base metal..."></div> </div> </div>

solid border dashed border dotted border double border groove border ridge border inset border outset border no border blue green red purple cyan gold silver black