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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476795" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Not Imitating Anything Within Myself</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not imitating anything within myself. Not <br>cloning, replicating, or even confining <br>the same seeds to the same plants, endlessly <br>spiralling through space like a galaxy or a hawk, <br>drift, release, and disperse, condense and shine, <br>shudder with motherlodes of lightning in the ore, <br>let the light turn back on itself like a solar flare <br>or an ingrown hair, let the presence show me <br>the absolute purity of its absence if it must, <br>and that which is greatly unknown retain its sublimity. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I seek nothing. And find it everywhere. I make <br>no appeal to the silence to make something happen <br>for a change, as if it had a mind of its own <br>that didn't come with an explanation or an alibi. <br>Neither indictment nor confession, I'm not listening <br>to the stars through the black walnut leaves with my ears. <br>Three blocks away the teen agers sound like <br>white water in a small rapid, and the heavy night air <br>can barely keep its eyelids open, and though <br>I've lived here before they were born, <br>I am always the occasion of a stranger <br>who takes note and moves on down some deserted avenue <br>or path through the woods where the moon <br>and the stars appear more luminously invigorated <br>as they were before the town began to smoke them out like bees<br>and they dimmed to mere chalk dust on a blackboard.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I give a military salute to the lamp posts of the Imperial Guard <br>and go into exile like Napoleon. Je me souviens.<br>I will make no more wars upon my solitude. <br>I will walk with Sister Lunacy, my strange companion, <br>and we shall return our shadows to the darkness <br>like the feathers of two birds of prey renewing our wingspan <br>just to wheel on the wind like figure-skaters no one is watching. <br>Not to aspire. Not to long. Not to fulfil, acquire, or achieve. <br>Simply to act boundlessly as the smoke from a fire. <br>As the breath from our mouths on the afterlife of a star<br>that was a great arsonist in its time, <br>as the ashes of the bridges it crossed will tell you<br>in words of white phosphorus that will burn through your eyes. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sweet absorption into the darkness on the other side <br>of seeing, I leave my images and metaphors behind me <br>like a man who's just wandered off the job <br>leaves his tools as they are, and follows some intuition <br>lingering like the fragrance of a night out of time in the air<br>that means nothing sustainable to anyone but 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=476795" data-title="Not Imitating Anything Within Myself de Patrick White" data-description="Not imitating anything within myself. Not 
cloning, replicating, or even confining 
the same seeds to the same plants, endlessly 
spiralling through space like a galaxy or a hawk, 
drift, release, and disperse, condense and shine, 
shudder with mo..."></div>
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