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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476674" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>If I Were To Give You A Black Shawl Of Woven Rivers</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">If I were to give you a black lace shawl of woven rivers<br>would you wear it over the moonlit hills <br>of your bare shoulders like a spell I cast <br>to keep you as warm as a firefly on a cold night? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or would you mistake it for a bird net or a spider web<br>or think I'm fishing in the depths for the black pearl <br>of a new moon to hold in an old moon's arms? <br>Or milk your last crescent as an antidote to your charms? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">If I were to show you a back road out of hell <br>as Orpheus did Eurydice, would you look back again <br>at the long path that came to this and think <br>you'd rather drink black cool aid in Jonestown </div><div style="margin:10px 0">than follow a goated footed sherpa up <br>into the mountains of the moon that cast their spells <br>like the shadows of sundials in a flowerless garden? <br>Would the stars that are flowing between us</div><div style="margin:10px 0">suddenly harden into diamonds, would an ice-age <br>come of a spring thaw, or would you neglect it all <br>like global warming, or just another butterfly <br>in the mouth of a dragon that doesn't know when </div><div style="margin:10px 0">to keep his shut. Should Merlin fall on the sword <br>he embedded in rock like iron ore when iron <br>was still a magical metal, or should he fire up the forge <br>recast his sword, and crown himself the king of metallurgy? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I'm not rich, but if I were to stand on a streetcorner for you <br>and play the songs I wrote for you the night before <br>on a blue guitar I managed to save from the housefire <br>of a weeping violin that couldn't put it out for love or money, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">would you still love me for who I am and was, <br>or look for a just cause to hand me a suitcase full of ashes<br>and show me the door like a snowflake <br>to the furnace of your Fukushima heart </div><div style="margin:10px 0">like a crumpled loveletter you read like junkmail<br>meant to suck you in to a romantic scam for life<br>without any heavy water to speak of to cool your eyes? <br>Or would you let me risk my luck up against yours </div><div style="margin:10px 0">between the wishbone of your thighs and give me a break? <br>Tine the tongue of the snake like a tuning fork <br>that can taste the lightning to come in every chimney spark? <br>Or if I were to lose, still cherish me for my own sake, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">and give me a rain cheque until my lifeboat comes in <br>like providence on the last high tide of the moon<br>to sail the skull and crossbones among the angel fleets<br>like a cheap thrill off the coasts of Atlantis? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or would you treat me as just another seagull <br>looking for scraps in the waning wake of moonset<br>unweaving by night what it wove by day <br>like Penelope among a hovering flock of unwanted suitors? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I could teach you how to fletch the arrows of love <br>like hawks that never missed their targets, <br>or the flightfeathers of skylarks and mourning doves <br>should you prefer them to the quills of the peacocks</div><div style="margin:10px 0">that never fly any higher than the lowest rung of the tree, <br>a hundred eyes open like hand mirrors on a vanity <br>but none that can see you as I can like an ageing man<br>who can find nothing to compare you to yesterday</div><div style="margin:10px 0">but a few rogue stars that whispered between the lines <br>of their unnamed constellations, things that I want <br>to say to you today out loud as if I had wings <br>on my heels and a secret crane-bag around my my neck </div><div style="margin:10px 0">with an hermetic alphabet that could talk<br>to your body in tongues like a morning snail <br>riding its own smear of love like a skyful of mirrors <br>flowing like unholy rivers through a sacred garden of starmud.</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=476674" data-title="If I Were To Give You A Black Shawl Of Woven Rivers de Patrick White" data-description="If I were to give you a black lace shawl of woven rivers
would you wear it over the moonlit hills 
of your bare shoulders like a spell I cast 
to keep you as warm as a firefly on a cold night? 

Or would you mistake it for a bird net or a spider w..."></div>
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