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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476665" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>I Wish I Knew You Well Enough To Say</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Trying to get centered in the middle of chaos <br>isn't going to turn me into the third of eye <br>of a hurricane rose, or square the circle <br>with the clarity of a lens with a seeing-eye dog.<br>The rags of the clouds are teaching the dandelion seeds <br>how to drift with a good conscience, <br>just let things go awhile. What's done, what's not.<br>Why labour at either when together they're just <br>the human way of walking away from things <br>one moment after another? Chaos has a way <br>of conditioning itself into people like me <br>who relax because they know it's all out of control. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Been feeling like a dead branch, a maple witching wand, <br>these past few days, because I've given up <br>divining water with a snake's tongue, <br>and I thought I was blossoming again <br>when I saw the first bud of the moonrise <br>but now it seems to have gone down <br>behind a screening myth of eyelashes and trees<br>and my heart is so disappointed in me <br>there's no help for it, it's crying in my bloodstream, <br>and when all my childhood insecurities <br>come mocking me like a fox in my sacred hole, <br>I don't even bother licking my wounds anymore. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hope. But it's dogpaddling just beneath an airhole <br>in the middle of a seal hunt on a bloody ice floe<br>that's grinding its molars in its sleep like sheet ice.<br>Always hope. A crack in the door left ajar <br>for the light to get in and the darkness out. <br>Only a fool would make the exceptional a rule of thumb, <br>and hope is a palace of water with so many windows <br>even the best thieves of moonlight <br>don't know whether they're breaking in or out. <br>Just the same, my blessings on everyone's head and house. <br>The wingspans of two birds hinged to a gate <br>that doesn't need a guru to teach it to open, <br>where I'm a stranger who stopped to talk <br>on the roadside of the fence, and on the other, <br>I'm a nocturnal wildflower in a secret garden of bliss <br>that doesn't notice the difference in the way I bloom.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Anyway, who's got the eyes to see any further <br>into their fate than a pair of dice do, and if things <br>don't break your way, you're not washed up <br>on Circe's island like a love affair with the moon, <br>the manuscript of your first loveletter doesn't <br>regrettably meet anyone's needs at the time<br>but feel free to submit again if you're a masochist, <br>so what, there a more mirages of fish in the desert, <br>and the star you wished upon digs its spur into your eye, <br>Giddy up. After you get over a little death, <br>an emotional stone age when Perseus meets Medusa <br>on his way to rescue Andromeda from a killer whale, <br>rejection can be the burr under the saddle of Pegasus<br>and there's nothing in the way of these high, wide open starfields, <br>that have never known a fence or a gate, to obstruct you <br>from burning a little dark energy off <br>by taking to the air like a mythically deflated weather balloon<br>in an expanding universe that's just taken <br>its thumb and forefinger off your throat to let you breathe out <br>as if you'd managed somehow again <br>to exorcise yourself from your own self-possession.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A lot of gurus have to like that. But I'm sick of the sound <br>of one hand clapping like an overly-disciplined seal <br>with one flipper left while Orca eats its trainer. <br>I want to take a leap of faith, not death, like the rain<br>through a circle of my own making whether <br>it amuses the crowd or not. Or meets the approval of rainbows.<br>Attachment too is a buddha activity once you get back <br>from the sad, cold, desolated shore of enlightenment <br>and the spell has unsilvered the back of the mirror <br>like flakes of moonlight, and effaced it with a clarity <br>that lets you see right through yourself <br>like the stars in an autumn sky into nothing.<br>What is it Dogen Zenji said in medieval Japan? <br>When the truth doesn't fill your body and mind <br>you feel you've had enough. But when it does <br>you always feel as if something were missing? <br>God, what a lot of empty truth I must embody <br>to be so hungry for the taste of all my lost illusions.</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=476665" data-title="I Wish I Knew You Well Enough To Say de Patrick White" data-description="Trying to get centered in the middle of chaos 
isn't going to turn me into the third of eye 
of a hurricane rose, or square the circle 
with the clarity of a lens with a seeing-eye dog.
The rags of the clouds are teaching the dandelion seeds 
how ..."></div>
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