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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476841" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Red Shift Soon Into The Dark, But Not Tonight</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Red shift soon into the dark, but not tonight <br>out of these longer wavelengths of insight <br>into the ongoing mystery of everything I'm aware of <br>and what I'm not in the lifelines on the palms of my blossoms <br>and in the roots of these abandoned orchards of stars.<br>Unattainable the things of the earth that were given for free, <br>I long for dark abundance, bright vacancy. <br>Beauty meets me everywhere eye to eye <br>on my own terms, and we speak in metaphors <br>that occur all around us like fireflies and wild irises. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O evanescent river of night, unpartitioned waterclock, <br>keep time with my heart even as you unravel the past <br>like a ribbon of blood I've brought to you as a gift. <br>Keep it supple and fluid and let the light on your waters <br>mingle in the sweetness of its fruit. Let no cruel day <br>embitter the wine of the efoliate nerves <br>of the wild grapes greening their tendrils <br>like the treble clefs of a living music <br>that can only be heard with the eyes when you listen. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Off road awhile, let me wander as you do <br>through these labyrinths of circuitous blossoming <br>and lose myself in people and things and wonder <br>at the black and white wisdom of being here <br>to marvel at all, and give the stars a reason to search.<br>Keep my wits close to my senses and my instincts <br>like holy books written on the wind like the smoke <br>of distant fires I will sit around again<br>listening to stories told in the tongues <br>of the polyglot flames. May I always <br>cherish the pain of separation as my most <br>sincere teacher, the one who beat me the hardest <br>for the foolishness of trying to come up for air <br>while I was still in the womb. May compassion <br>always come on the winged heels of insight <br>the way pears come of their leaves<br>or the heart grows in the hands of its thieves. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hard, the longing to know. Harder to know you don't. <br>Hard to be the dunce in the corner of your own illumination. <br>The persecuted voodoo doll of a witch hunt.<br>The shabby philosopher with a heart of gold<br>who took the long way round to the back of the abyss. <br>Or an eclipse with its thumb out trying <br>to hitch hike down the Milky Way like a punk rocker.<br>And those who live to see death in their children's eyes, <br>as the ferocity of their frozen tears breaks <br>into little plinths and roseate splinters of shattered sky.<br>Hard to see people uncrazed by their own creativity <br>like a wet book of matches frowning at solar flares, <br>sceptics doubting the crazy wisdom of their own stars. <br>To see friends who were the pillars of the wharves <br>you said hello and good-bye on, pull away one last time <br>like empty lifeboats with nothing left to save.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the lovers who know each other like junkies <br>on the same drug, love potions using the same alibi<br>to excuse the mystic delirium of being caught <br>by their third eye, exalting in their passion <br>for whispering old-fashioned things into each other's ears<br>on the thresholds of enlightened taboos. Imagine<br>going through withdrawal from your own imagination <br>burning little black holes through the windows <br>until they look like starmaps that forgot the way back home. <br>And the hasty bones that were buried en masse <br>like yarrow sticks in an incriminating Book of Changes. <br>Poverty, atrocity, war, disease, and these we ignore, <br>and these we praise for trivializing our attention span.<br>Hard to be human and embody all this in your heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But don't stop. Keep flowing. Making your own path up <br>on the fly as you go, knowing it's going to get harder yet. <br>Let me live it like a dream I'm always waking up from <br>with no regret. Let me cherish the terrors<br>for the dark jewels they sowed like dragon's teeth <br>in their wake, and celebrate the fools of my doubtful virtues<br>like a poet in autumn dancing with the last of the flowers<br>as if they still had the voices they had in the spring.</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=476841" data-title="Red Shift Soon Into The Dark, But Not Tonight de Patrick White" data-description="Red shift soon into the dark, but not tonight 
out of these longer wavelengths of insight 
into the ongoing mystery of everything I'm aware of 
and what I'm not in the lifelines on the palms of my blossoms 
and in the roots of these abandoned orch..."></div>
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