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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476894" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Tenderly The Evening Descends Into A Dark Bliss</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tenderly the evening descends into a dark bliss <br>and lays its poultice like a cool leaf against my forehead <br>and draws the fever of the day out of the night. <br>I ease back on my elbows like an easel down by the river. <br>When I'm burnt, I make a blister <br>and cushion myself with water, <br>a more useful approach to tears.<br>The mosquitoes swarm like insistent circumstances <br>that thin my blood, but a soft wind <br>is blowing them away from Pearl Harbour. <br>The long blue grass yields as easily to a man as a deer. <br>I want the stars near enough to overhear what they're whispering.<br>Still amazing to me I can embrace all of them with a thought <br>as if they were my idea in the first place <br>and feel humbled and exalted at the same time<br>by the sublimity of their radiance and the strangeness of my own. <br>The river sustains its clarity by wandering.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Single male in the autumn of life, I've let go of so much <br>the only thing left to let go of is the letting go itself.<br>I've forgone the commotion of inducing myself into creation.<br>Things will fall out by themselves. Playfulness <br>return to surrealistic perversity <br>to explain the shape of the universe <br>and fools like me counter-intuit the crazy wisdom <br>of squandering their lives on voices in the distance <br>leading them on deeper into the subtleties of a poetic narcosis<br>that haunts them like the face <br>of a beautiful woman they once knew.<br>Don't we all belong to a nobility of longing, even though <br>we don't live up to it, and start to grasp and scratch <br>like dead branches screeching across <br>an intransigent windowpane on a stormy night<br>that let's us look at the fire, but doesn't let us in? <br>Where do you go with your serious spirit <br>when you've been rejected by your solitude? <br>Do you know the secret art of being enhanced <br>by the qualities of anything you're not attached to, <br>without killing off the desire for what you're missing? <br>Live with gratitude for the abyss in your heart <br>it's impossible to fill like a grave <br>that took more out of you than it put back in.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You can be adorned by your failures. <br>You can be humiliated by your victories. <br>Coming and going, your path can be strewn <br>with roses or thorns. You could be walking on stars.<br>You could be lying down beside a river at night like I am<br>savouring a sorrow you like the poetic taste of, <br>because it includes everything within it <br>like the skin of the dew and the moon as the source of life. <br>Even sweeter than a rainbow body of light <br>or an atmosphere with ocean to match, <br>this last touch of clinging before you evaporate<br>into the mystery of everything you're leaving behind.<br>No more than you can pour water out of the universe<br>through a black hole, can your mindstream be poured by time <br>into the uncomprehending darkness of the black mirror <br>you're looking for an image in tonight <br>in the eyes of all these stars shining down upon us, <br>knowing our starmud is just as old as their light<br>and we're not wandering orphans lost in their shadows.<br>We're firewalking on water like stars in the shapes <br>of self-immolating swans, two parts flammable <br>from the start, and one of oxygen like a toxin <br>we depend upon for life like an alien export we adapted to. <br>Same with death. Until you include it in the nucleus, <br>inviting your enemy in to feast behind the gates <br>that laboured like water to keep life in the seas, <br>you're vulnerable to the delusion of your own exclusion<br>like the face of an exile in your mirroring awareness. <br> <br>Don't underestimate the creative potential <br>of the dark genius of death to come up <br>with new paradigms of seeing and being <br>that make us feel we lived our whole lives <br>confined and blind in the coffin of a seed <br>that stored a harvest of what we've reaped in a silo. <br>Out of the dead ore of the moon <br>pours the white gold of wheat<br>like metal from a stone in a starfield <br>that yields more life than can be lost <br>in the living of it. Without a sword. Without a ploughshare.<br>Isn't it in the nature of our evanescence to move <br>like light and water and wind from urn to urn <br>of one sky burial to the next at sea and then the earth<br>like a water clock that runs so urgently <br>from full to an emptiness that has to keep expanding <br>like the human heart just to contain it <br>so when the cup's broken like a skull <br>you can drink the whole of the sea and the sky <br>in every single dropp of your mindstream <br>and the stars will still be climbing your roots <br>up to the flowers within that bloom every year <br>like a deepening insight at zenith into <br>the dark generosity of becoming something <br>even beyond the scope of death to imagine extinct.</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=476894" data-title="Tenderly The Evening Descends Into A Dark Bliss de Patrick White" data-description="Tenderly the evening descends into a dark bliss 
and lays its poultice like a cool leaf against my forehead 
and draws the fever of the day out of the night. 
I ease back on my elbows like an easel down by the river. 
When I'm burnt, I make a blis..."></div>
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