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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476688" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>If You've Come This Far</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">If you’ve come this far <br>by the very fact you could <br>your solitude is marked for exile.<br>Those who sustain <br>are threatened by those who enhance. <br>There’s a soft night breeze <br>blowing through the open window<br>and a chandelier trying to teach a mobile to dance <br>and a man looking up at the stars <br>into the abyss beyond <br>wondering how to be grateful <br>that chaos took advantage of random chance <br>and he’s here <br>amazed by the accident. <br>Being without intent. <br>Meaning without a basis in fact. <br>And a passion for darkness that surpasses the stars.<br>His longing must have reached them by now. <br>His compassion must have brought them to tears. <br>Wavelengths of insight can burn for light years<br>like fireflies with astrolabes <br>trying to get a fix on their event horizons <br>as if their own shining <br>were the only lead they had to go on. <br>A mirage in a desert of stars<br>when you’re lost <br>can give you a sense of direction <br>to the watershed of your radiance<br>as well as any other approach to the vastness can. <br>He picks a few yellow leaves off a green plant <br>in a bone-dry apartment <br>and for a moment he’s Adam in the garden again.<br>He realizes that promoting life <br>is his way of cherishing his own.<br>And then he ruminates on its perishing<br>on his way to the garbage can <br>to dispose of the heart-shaped leaves <br>like phases of the moon <br>on the pages of an obsolete calendar <br>with pictures of the scenic past <br>inviting you to come and visit. <br>What’s a guest to do by himself <br>when there’s no one else <br>in the lighthouse <br>to play the host<br>but the ghost of God <br>wandering like smoke along this lonely coast <br>trying to make the sea stand still <br>knowing that’s the one commandment <br>it can’t fulfill <br>and probably what got him killed? <br>Prayers are more sincere at a seance <br>than they are at church. <br>Widow watch in a dark tower <br>long after the search has been called off.<br>He lights a candle. <br>He blows it out. <br>He sits down at his desk <br>and listens to the raging rant <br>of a heart-broke drunk outside<br>smashing the love letter he meant to write <br>like an empty whisky bottle <br>in the indifferent street light<br>on the rocks of a lip-syncing mermaid<br>who’s just jumped his shipwreck <br>for a lifeboat that likes her singing. <br>He gets the message. <br>He’s not one of her new friends. <br>The man at his desk <br>reassesses his loneliness <br>and decides one bodymind <br>a lifetime<br>might be a brighter lamp<br>than any two a genie could wish for.<br>New lamps for old. <br>But the fire doesn’t change. <br>Desire takes root in its own ashes. <br>Two birds perch like hinges <br>on the door of a grand entrance<br>to a Janus-faced New Year<br>though it’s only August <br>that looks both ways at once <br>at the valley it’s just passed through like a death mask <br>and the view from the peak <br>of the mountain it’s on <br>speaking to God face to face <br>as if there were no come down to the future<br>of its unhinged celebrants.<br>Is love the long binge of a periodic alcoholic <br>who can’t remember <br>the damage he’s done<br>to the weather of a loved one? <br>Or is there something more to it <br>that greets the heart <br>with everything that’s missing from the mind? <br>An inexplicable mystery <br>that reveals a starmap <br>of fireflies for the blind <br>that no one can follow <br>like the white cane of a tall ship<br>witching for water in hell<br>like a lightning rod. <br>And in heaven <br>a bloodline that isn’t wounded <br>by a grail of sad heavy wine<br>that cures the ailing kingdom of its symptoms <br>but not the longing of the disease<br>for the delirium of the dream <br>that broke it <br>like a water clock with a fever.<br>More heretic than believer <br>a crow balances <br>like a black umbrella <br>on a power line outside his window. <br>Looking at it <br>he sees an eclipse of the moon. <br>Total. <br>No exit<br>but time<br>maybe time. <br>Even the darkness must pass. <br>He takes it as a sign <br>that if he’s come this far <br>the future is well behind him.<br>He’s a star beyond shining <br>and there’s no way <br>even if he’s recalled from exile <br>even if he receives a look from someone <br>he can return to<br>they’re ever going to find him.</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=476688" data-title="If You've Come This Far de Patrick White" data-description="If you’ve come this far 
by the very fact you could 
your solitude is marked for exile.
Those who sustain 
are threatened by those who enhance. 
There’s a soft night breeze 
blowing through the open window
and a chandelier trying to teach a mo..."></div>
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