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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476751" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Looking For A Little Black Water After The Fury Of The White</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Looking for a little black water after the fury of the white.<br>Dark energy after the light as peace <br>settles down gently upon me, <br>the sediment of the eras and rivers of my life.<br>And this cool night in early autumn, <br>a woman in a dark cloak and hood<br>I could almost caress if I could just breathe <br>a little more deeply than the abyss <br>I've been dogpaddling in because <br>there's nowhere else among all these stars<br>I can swim from the shallow end of myself <br>into the watersheds of my last drowning.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And there's an unprescribed silence, <br>a herb of the moon that's salving the wound<br>of the lunar thorn I just pulled out of my heart <br>delicately with my teeth. I'm trying <br>to tune my spinal cord to the guitar string <br>of the Tay River, so I can resonate in harmony <br>with the flow of things. Starfire walking <br>on the water of the mindstream without <br>the crutch of a miracle to help bear me up. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It's not so much a matter of power or self-discipline<br>as it is well within the spontaneous capacity <br>of everyone's emptiness to do so because, <br>labour exhaustively as we do just to find the path <br>let alone stay on it, all we've had to do <br>right from the start, is to let life <br>give us a narrative of our own we can be true to<br>as it makes you up going along with it <br>like a lonely survivor singing to himself in a lifeboat <br>at the last watch of the night. Arcturus<br>at the tip of our eyelashes, enmeshed<br>as it sinks in a western treeline of beached shipwrecks. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Reach out, but don't grasp. Accept and let go. <br>Scatter your blossoms, even when you're<br>down on your luck, like ripped up lottery tickets<br>whether they end up in the gutter<br>or on an impressionist table cloth somewhere <br>playing checkers with a patient still life.<br>I've seen whole Japanese plum trees in blossom <br>be brushed aside like perfect haikus <br>by a street sweeper at three in the morning <br>when no one else was watching but me and Basho.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My blood is saturated by an overdose of stars<br>and I can feel a light from deep within <br>rooting in my limbs like nightfall<br>as my awareness is enhanced <br>by how much unknown compassion <br>there is the silence, love in a dark time.<br>Blue moons on the wild grape vines, <br>approaching the autumn equinox in Virgo<br>as if they could read my mind like a purple passage <br>intoxicated on the wine that can be pressed out of its own decay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The waterlilies are gone with the fireflies, <br>and the reupholstered cattails are beginning <br>to show signs of wear already. And soon <br>the Canada geese will be flying high overhead <br>bearing the souls of the dead to new latitudes of seeing <br>where the starmaps fall from their hands <br>like the feathers and leaves of being <br>flowing along with the mindstream<br>like the wiverns, wavelengths, and water sylphs <br>playing on the shores of the Milky Way <br>with as many burning bridges, <br>as there are flames on the phoenix <br>in the immolated sumac, as there are eyes<br>to see across these circuitous waters <br>to the other side of where we've always been going<br>alone together with everyone who's ever come aboard.</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=476751" data-title="Looking For A Little Black Water After The Fury Of The White de Patrick White" data-description="Looking for a little black water after the fury of the white.
Dark energy after the light as peace 
settles down gently upon me, 
the sediment of the eras and rivers of my life.
And this cool night in early autumn, 
a woman in a dark cloak and hoo..."></div>
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