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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476874" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Someone To Rejoice In</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Someone to rejoice in. Foolish thought. <br>Epiphanous absurdity. My interminable longing <br>for a treasure, a happiness, a companion <br>I'm not even sure I deserve, is agitating <br>oceans of emotion again, <br>and wants to run before the wind, <br>wants to raise up apple blossoms <br>like sails with the skull and crossbones on them<br>and skirt the rocky coasts of extinct volcanoes <br>that once served as lighthouses in the distance<br>when I was island-hopping <br>like an infidel among the angel fleets. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The dragon's howl in the dead skull. <br>Moments when my heart shrieks with life<br>like a red-tailed hawk falling upon a snake. <br>I am a ravenous man who wants to eat the light.<br>The night flows into my bloodstream <br>like an atlas of arteries.<br>As time has passed, the pain in me <br>has shifted wavelengths from the ultra violet <br>to the infra-red of a less lethal frequency. <br>I'm at the wide-eyed end of the hourglass, <br>but I can still bare my fangs <br>like the moon when I need to. <br>I can still come down off the mountain <br>like a hashashim and run the shadow of my knife <br>like an eclipse across the dreamscape of anyone<br>who takes too much for granted in their sleep. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So why is it after refueling and buying <br>a well-upholstered cheesey sandwhich in plastic skin <br>at the all night Kingston Esso just before you cross the 401<br>at one thirty in the morning, and begin to enter<br>the long, dark way home up the old Perth road to Westport, <br>did I begin to miss you<br>as if you had sat beside me my whole life? <br>And I pondered your absence like a hitch hiker <br>I had just picked up for the first time <br>and the impact of the encounter <br>left an indelible impression on my emptiness <br>as if someone had written something <br>so eloquent and intriguing as a ribbon of blood <br>letting its hair down in the water <br>I couldn't help but feel like a flying carpet <br>that was unravelling mile by mile of asphalt<br>like a glacier that couldn't wait to get back to you, <br>thawing time into rivers to speed things up? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the night sang as I hadn't heard it in a while. <br>And the stars flew in through the window like fireflies. <br>And I rode the road like a rat snake past Devil's Lake <br>where we agreed to paint en plain air <br>when the waterlilies were in bloom <br>like huge starmaps laid upon the water.<br>Are you the tuning fork that tames the lightning? <br>Are you the power of silence that shames the word? <br>Are you the thread of blood on the sword that blesses it? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I wanted to kiss you good night. <br>I wanted to embrace you like a nebula<br>of blue-hearted hydrogen and the dust of dead stars<br>just to see if I could make you shine or not, <br>but I thought it was too early in the year, <br>too premature for the Pleiades to break into light<br>and I might scare you with the intensity <br>of what was ingathering out of<br>the immensities of the last million light-years<br>of crossing these homeless thresholds <br>without a star to go by, alone and unconvinced<br>I hadn't missed the turn several lifetimes back. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now I sit upright in my bones at my desk <br>like dice with their eyes fully opened like blackholes<br>wondering if I should chide my skeleton for cowardice <br>or alea iacta, risked my luck, and crossed the Rubicon<br>like an event horizon that's never known a compass or a guide. <br>And I'm looking under every leaf and stone <br>and heart I've ever worn upon my sleeve <br>like a fresh strawberry in a field of burning scarecrows <br>that started out as potential messiahs <br>but ended up being immolated as faithful heretics<br>true to the fire that consumed them from within. <br>And you, their felix culpa, their happy sin. <br>The one forbidden thing you must risk your life for to live. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I'm dogpaddling in space and time like a shipwreck.<br>I'm holding my breath like a lungful of stars<br>trying to stay afloat long enough<br>not to see my life flash before my eyes <br>like a lantern whose last remaining firefly's gone out<br>like the solar flare of an s.o.s. that bloomed to no effect, <br>until your lifeboat returns like the moon for survivors.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A swallow again lost in a hurricane of volcanic ashes? <br>A simian in a cage with a piece of coloured glass <br>that transfixes it with vulnerable awe and wonder? <br>The aura of a woman who doesn't know yet <br>quite how beautiful she is, lingering in the air <br>like the smell of wild roses when you're out <br>painting alone in the fields of abandoned farms <br>and you can feel the uncanny chill of another person <br>walk right through you like the moon through a summer window. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And o to worry about so many little things again <br>the world pivots on moment by moment <br>as if it were a privilege and an honour to cherish them <br>like signs of love in a Druidic tree alphabet<br>that whispered coniferous prophecies to the moon<br>but held a few sacred syllables back under its tongue <br>that were just meant for one alone to hear <br>like a secret message between a butterfly and a star.<br>Or this woman who's just summoned me <br>like a nightbird to the moonrise of her smile <br>as if I'd never flown to the end of my longing before <br>without finding a noose to hang myself with. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But as I do, I do again with less fear than before <br>and though the shadows in the valley of death <br>are just as intense, the warmth of a sprightly optimism <br>that keeps this firefly of insight alive in my heart <br>to want to see this all the way through <br>as if it were a rite of passage <br>that proved the comets true<br>or the rush of a wild northern river <br>with a rudder and a sail and a hull<br>going over a waterfall like the Milky Way, <br>or a moonboat panning for gold in the mountains. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The rustic pauper prince of Perth, I hadn't<br>realized what an undernourished bush wolf I had become <br>after all these years of living in the wilderness<br>until I understood someone had baited the trapline <br>with kindness I had forgotten the taste of in my exile.<br>And though I don't travel with a begging bowl, <br>by god, I'll hold my skull out to her next time <br>if I have to, just to taste a sheaf of light <br>from that harvest again, as if the dark side of the moon <br>had just broken its long vow of silence and darkness<br>and she were lingering in space like the aura <br>of an atmosphere I had lived too long without. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">As if a dakini, an elixir of light, had appeared <br>like the planet Venus in the dusk again<br>and I could feel an updraft of stars <br>wheeling under my wings <br>like a winding stairwell of serpent fire <br>threading through all nine open chakras<br>and eleven dimensions of a sky wide third eye <br>in an easy rapture of something unearthly, ascending<br>to sterling altitudes of blissful vertigo<br>that whirl me in a wind of fire at the crossroads<br>of everywhere and here<br>like the ashes of a mad Sufi <br>ghost dancing on his funeral pyre for rain<br>as the first few drops wash his fate from his forehead <br>like the sheet music of an old song<br>perched like aging birds on a downed powerline<br>returning its energy like lightning to the earth <br>she walks upon in the flowing raiment of fireflies<br>and the hydrogen negligees of the blue star clusters<br>embroidered with the harvest gold of the sun <br>seasoning the grain with the bright vacancy<br>and dark abundance of the light <br>still warm in the lunar locket of her heart<br>as if she'd just put a loaf of bread <br>out on the windowsill to cool for a moment or two.<br> <br>And how can I, this famine in an hourglass <br>beside this silo of the plenum void full of manna<br>resist whatever befalls me in this desert of stars <br>whether it be vipers or wheat fields<br>along the way to the unpromised land of milk and honey, <br>barefoot on thorns, or walking on soft petals<br>like the dunes and waves of the ocean in the rose? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Flammable poet, sacred clown of the holy mirage, <br>mad monk alone in your hermitage, dragon seed <br>of island pirates wearing the night like an eye-patch<br>to navigate the stars like a canning jar of fireflies <br>burning on the inside of their eyelids like starmaps<br>to the cherished singularities I buried <br>at the bottom of the fathomless blackholes <br>firing up the galaxies all over again like the wellsprings<br>of a muse renewing her wings like starfish and birds <br>in the fountainmouth of the mountain at a loss for words. <br>Or as the poet said, what's madness <br>but nobility of soul at odds with circumstance? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And did you not say, I heard you as if my life <br>depended on it, you were attracted to crazy people, <br>and did I not ask, if crazy wisdom were close enough, <br>and you replied, yes, and my heart freefell<br>a thousand feet without a parachute <br>when space bent like a longbow into flight.<br>And I shuddered like a witching wand in ecstasy<br>over the watershed that swelled under me <br>when I divined what that could mean to a sailor<br>lost at sea on the moon as far from shore <br>as any lunatic has ever been out of his asylum<br>his heart his mind his body soul and spirit <br>without dying like a message for the sake of the medium<br>it was delivered in like longing in the song of a nightbird. <br>Love in the sound of a word.</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=476874" data-title="Someone To Rejoice In de Patrick White" data-description="Someone to rejoice in. Foolish thought. 
Epiphanous absurdity. My interminable longing 
for a treasure, a happiness, a companion 
I'm not even sure I deserve, is agitating 
oceans of emotion again, 
and wants to run before the wind, 
wants to rais..."></div>
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