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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476680" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>If You Could See</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">If you could see into the nature of a single thought, <br>what it really is, though you think you know already, <br>if you could for one moment as old as the world <br>stop casting all these handshadows on the moon <br>as if they were the birds and bedrock of your intelligence, <br>as if the waves hauled the sea around in chains, <br>as if the leaves were a language without roots, <br>you would stop reading yourself like a prophecy in your own bones, <br>and be brought to your knees like a bull <br>penetrated by the seven swords of insight<br>and realize the unwitnessed clarity of the emptiness <br>that suggested you to you out of its dark abundance<br>is also the bright vacancy of this world that keeps you company.<br>All these intimate secrets of yourself <br>you keep posting to the sky like stars<br>or the single shoes and milkcartons of the missing <br>when you go looking for yourself like knowledge<br>in the eyeless spirit's lost and found; <br>why don't you, just for once and ever, <br>treat yourself to a season of your own, and shed them; <br>open your fist like a tree and let them go into the big O of omega, <br>hold yourself up like a candle to a black hole <br>and see what's deep inside<br>when the world's turned inside out <br>like a gallery at night without pictures? <br>If you listen, if you learn to listen deeply <br>with your eyes and your blood <br>with the intensity and focus of a hunting cat, <br>you can hear the crazy keys to freedom<br>jingling everywhere like flowers jailed by the rain<br>or the sun held for ransom in the siloes of the brain<br>the moon ploughs and seeds with thoughts of shining.<br> Once you stop looking for continuity in the emptiness <br>you'll come to realize that emptiness <br>is the fountain-mouth of its own theme<br>and it's the dream not the dreamer that's in play <br>when a fish suddenly jumps like a thought <br>and there are ripples on the moon.<br>Who comes like an explorer without a flag <br>before an undiscovered sea of light <br>and stands before it like a spoon? <br>Raise the well of your darkest night up to your lips <br>and drink it drier than the eyes <br>of the lover who gave up crying over you<br>once she opened up like the mouth of a river <br>and entrusted herself like an aimless thought to the sea.<br>Hold yourself up like the Hubble <br>to the vastness of the darkness and the shining <br>to the largesse of the night in its open-handed radiance, <br>to the imageless wisdom of the mother you don't know <br>who abides in your seeing like a compassionate shadow <br>and the intangible mystery of the mother of forms that you do, <br>and drink yourself down to the last star <br>to ever lay eyes upon you.</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=476680" data-title="If You Could See de Patrick White" data-description="If you could see into the nature of a single thought, 
what it really is, though you think you know already, 
if you could for one moment as old as the world 
stop casting all these handshadows on the moon 
as if they were the birds and bedrock of..."></div>
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