Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476819" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Out Here Alone</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Out here alone so late at night <br>with all these spectacular stars<br>burning through the clean glass <br>of the freezing winter air<br>I can almost hear them thinking<br>behind the myths of the cover stories<br>they've told for years <br>dark truths about life and light <br>it would be madness in a man to understand. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Don't try to stuff the impersonal secret <br>of the universe<br>into your sentimental heart.<br>How could you ever fit its likeness <br>into a locket <br>and finger it lovingly as your own? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Out here alone so late<br>even if you have come <br>like a thief in the night<br>to steal from the light<br>when nobody's home<br>there are no cracks no facets no gaps <br>no backdoors, unlocked windows <br>or emergency exits, <br>no stairwells or entrances <br>in these jewels of insight<br>that can feel your eyes falling upon them <br>like rain running down a mirror<br>that shuts you out<br>like someone in the bathroom crying<br>for reasons that are light-years beyond you.<br> <br>However deep and sincere your tears are <br>they're still only dry wells <br>in that vast ocean of awareness, <br>black snowflakes <br>on the roaring furnace of the abyss<br>and if you reach out with affection <br>hoping to make things better <br>by embracing it all <br>you're still only tendering a kiss<br>to the gaping jaws of your own lipless skull.<br> <br>There's a silence older than space <br>in the bottomless heart of things <br>that makes intelligence seem <br>the unlikeliest of exaggerations<br> a human could ever mean <br>holding his mind up like a lamp to the stars<br>as if he could find his own way back by his own light <br>without the dream that themes his mindstream with creation.<br> <br>But as foolish and futile as it is to surmise<br>or try to get a leg up on the wise <br>I don't think the darkness <br>is the negative space <br>around the troubled face that appeared <br>after all the dots were connected <br>like rising constellations <br>in a child's colouring book.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I don't think there are gods <br>squatting like frogs <br>on the lotus of the world <br>making us up as they go along <br>like wheels and roads <br>to the grunts and groans <br>of an axial mating song <br>anyone could mistake for a joke.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I don't think the stars <br>believe the things we say about them<br>or even remotely feel the mystic dread <br>of what it is to be a human <br>looking up at their shining <br>out of deeper darknesses within <br>where no direction can be given to the lost like eyes <br>that would never find their own way home again<br>were it not for the stars and fireflies that mislead us <br>from one illumination to the next <br>by giving the finger to the braille of the text <br>that would school a gust of stardust into us<br>like God gave life to Adam<br>and Eve gave life to God<br>long before there were any laws to blind them<br>like Satanic lightning bolts<br>uprooting their eyes like rain from the clouds<br>to put those fires out.<br> <br>I look up at the stars <br>with the eyes of an exile <br>through the diaspora of my breath <br>and I want to think them all to death <br>like the people and things I've left behind me<br>when it was time to go my own way <br>anywhere into the darkness inside me <br>to see if I could shine a light upon myself<br>that didn't blind me to the fact<br>neither in the beginning <br>nor in the end <br>was I there to witness the act <br>that made a certainty as good as a doubt <br>to the great indifference <br>that wasn't trying to find me<br>like a needle of light in the heart of a haystack.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I look up at the stars<br>like a scarecrow in winter<br>trying to put its pants on <br>one leg after another<br>like a man <br>with nothing but time to burn<br>scattering his ashes among the stars<br>urn after urn<br>skull after skull <br>of the heretics and mystics <br>that were martyred by his scar-crossed heart<br>in the name of nothing real.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I don't know what they feel<br>but I look up at the stars <br>like a black rose<br>of blood and starmud<br>in the last death throes <br>of self-immolation <br>and see in my own image <br>what I've always had<br>in common with creation.</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>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<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=476819" data-title="Out Here Alone de Patrick White" data-description="Out here alone so late at night 
with all these spectacular stars
burning through the clean glass 
of the freezing winter air
I can almost hear them thinking
behind the myths of the cover stories
they've told for years 
dark truths about life and ..."></div>
</div>
</div>