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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476738" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Letting The Stars From Last Night</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Letting the stars from last night <br>settle in this morning's puddles <br>so I can see more clearly once <br>this turmoil of starmud precipitates out <br>as mental sediment in a mirror<br>skybound to a vast blue abyss <br>and, as they say in Zen, the eternal sky <br>does not inhibit the flight of the white clouds. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I want to be a bird that dissipates <br>in the mauve distance like water in the air. <br>I want to be a fire whose flames <br>never stop aspiring to the stars, <br>though every time they're almost within grasp <br>they disappear like petals on the wind, <br>the pages fall out of the book I'm burning <br>like a sacrificial rose of galactic hydrogen, <br>and I'm left with a handful of ash<br>I can stuff my pillow with like the down <br>of a phoenix in the urn of his worst nightmare. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And being strong seldom helps. <br>Or feathering your dragons <br>to convince yourself they're bluebirds. <br>Strong means condemned to solitude. <br>Hanging on to the mountain with one arm <br>to keep it from falling to its death <br>in the valley it dug like its own grave <br>in the valley below. Biting the bullet <br>like a crystal skull until your back molars break <br>and you're swallowing little flakes of glass<br>like the beginning of a snow squall <br>even as you're smiling like a grimace <br>on a death mask trying to hold its tears back <br>like a glacier trying to discipline the mindstream. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Strong means you don't use the fossils of other birds<br>as crutches for your lapwings. Your calender of scars <br>begins to smile more affectionately at you <br>as you get older like waxing crescent moons<br>and this avalanche of meteoric life<br>looks more like a windfall of ore and apples <br>with seeds like snake-eyed dice inside<br>or the seven come eleven of a coal mine <br>that finally clarified its darkness like diamonds. <br>When bad news comes you fall on it <br>like a hand grenade in a daycare center <br>as you strain to keep yourself together.<br>Strong means being taken for granted <br>like the solid cornerstone that can take the weight<br>of the world that towers above it like quicksand. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Strong means you don't hesitate to eliminate <br>your distinctions when someone's drowning, <br>whether they're a fly in a toilet bowl, <br>Icarus falling out of the sky because his wings <br>were insincere, Narcissus plunging into his face, <br>or a siren caught up in the undertow of her song, <br>you show up like a lifeboat with a lighthouse <br>full of fireflies for a lantern, words for a rudder <br>and a star to set sail by and pull everyone in <br>to your emptiness, happy you've finally found a use for it. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A holy book says that no one's asked to bear <br>more than they can carry, and it's probably true <br>from one direction of prayer, but I swear, lately, <br>one camel isn't enough to shoulder what<br>it's going to take a caravan on the moon to walk <br>this cargo of heavy metals to a nuclear dump site<br>to the dark side where it's always midnight at noon. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">One moment there are funeral bells dissolved in the rain <br>like sugar-cubes of acid in a wishing well<br>and the next, a spear of insight penetrates my heart <br>and I can' t tell if it's a pin meant for a butterfly <br>or a voodoo doll, or as a dance floor for the angels <br>to learn how to waltz without bumping into each other <br>like Canada geese taking off from a trashed corn field<br>as if they needed an air traffic controller and a runway <br>to bear the souls of the dead west and south<br>as I begin to wonder if death really is too pricey a ticket <br>to unload all these camels of their burdens<br>like sacs of genetically modified bee pollen<br>I've gathered radioactively from the starfields <br>so it doesn't derange the hive or taint its honey and flowers, <br>and travelling lighter than life, go with them.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet I know I won't because my heart's<br>mortared into my Mongol blood like a brick <br>in the Temple of Life at Samarkand<br>and I would think of it as genocide <br>to kill even so much as a single human<br>who's ever stood nightwatch in a crow's nest <br>for a fleet sailing into a divine wind. <br>Sooner or later I'll be washed up <br>on the event horizon of another black hole <br>at the center of a galactic starfish <br>all my lucidities will stick to like myriad universes <br>nacreously gathering their pearls <br>like planets and new moons out of the nebulosity <br>of these lunar sandstorms whipping my eyes <br>with the radiance of a hundred billion burning stars<br>that get thrown in my wounds to cauterize <br>the scream of my fountainmouth hemorrhaging <br>in the dead silence I keep like a vow to myself <br>not to shriek out in pain at the arrows <br>that strike the hearts of the clear-eyed hawks in autumn.</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=476738" data-title="Letting The Stars From Last Night de Patrick White" data-description="Letting the stars from last night 
settle in this morning's puddles 
so I can see more clearly once 
this turmoil of starmud precipitates out 
as mental sediment in a mirror
skybound to a vast blue abyss 
and, as they say in Zen, the eternal sky 
..."></div>
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