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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476995" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Undevoted, Free, And Wild</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Undevoted, free, and wild, <br>no one to answer to, no one to answer for, <br>the urns shattered, and the ashes scattered, <br>and the fire liberated to perfect its own combustion <br>and the stars without anyone to walk home, <br>and the solitude silent, dark, and deep, cool <br>as the bliss of a wine-cellar talking in its sleep, <br>I have grown mad in the heat of the purple sun.<br>I have spoken from the mouths of the caves in the desert<br>and not expected the echo of my own voice <br>to return to me like a pilgrim stashing a gnostic gospel <br>deep in the sand, without realizing <br>how much closer to the stars dirt is than I am.<br> <br>When you're no one but the wind in disguise <br>you don' need to be humble, you don't need to wise, <br>nothing to trust, and no one to rely on, <br>you can watch the dead at night <br>streaming toward Orion <br>like a blue-white ribbon of light<br>undoing the gift wrappings off the bodies and eyes <br>of people who can see and be again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And you know it comes to everyone <br>like a nebular orchid with a fragrance of stars, <br>that the Sahara will green and bloom again <br>and the wind sing hymns to the grass<br>and the gazelles sport their elegant legs, <br>adolescents in the spring brush, <br>running like violins succulent with beginnings, <br>and it doesn't matter you're alone out here <br>listening to the ashes of a mirage <br>make up legends to tell the fire<br>about its ancestors buried on the moon anonymously<br>and how their blood once stained the earth <br>like a scarlet letter even the stars couldn't wash off. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The mystic anti-hero of my own dragon myth <br>I exalt in my isolation like a shriek of revolution <br>and overthrow myself like a book in the flames <br>to keep something I don't understand alive in me<br>as if I had to keep on dying to sustain myself<br>and the distinction between one and the other were lost upon life.<br>It's a touch, it's a feel, it's a hole in veil <br>with one eye looking out at me to see <br>if I've intensified the dark enough to break into stars, <br>if I can unravel my heart like smoke like water like fire <br>and perfectly disappear into the atmosphere of my dispersal<br>without a shudder of farewell to the masks I wore like scales. <br>Not to be constrained by even so much as <br>the single thread of a straitjacket, the husk <br>of an abandoned sanctuary left to the imagination <br>of the hermetic flowers to do with as they wish. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I shriek freedom across the heavens like the death cry <br>of a hawk waking the valley up in the morning. <br>I whisper to the water things the wind was never meant to hear. <br>So faithful to my calling, I lead those who come, away from me, <br>as if it were the perennial custom of the universe <br>to meet like this for a moment in time and space<br>and then disperse into the darkness alone like a unlit candle.<br>I'm a riot of fools in the sublimity of the presence within me <br>that elates the crazy wisdom of my spontaneous ignitions <br>and schools the black lightning of its absence <br>in the folly of trying to enclose my spirit in gates<br>like a candle in the niche of a tempestuous vision. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yeeeeeeessssss, I scream into the face of nothing <br>like the efoliant scripture of my confession and protest <br>that life doesn't need an alibi to live and die by, <br>no extraneous, no outer, no other, no object, no subject <br>no flying buttress to act as a bridge <br>over a flowing river of Gothic stone, <br>no strong tree standing on its own to cut down <br>and carve into a crutch, no cork to keep the ocean out, <br>no bucket to bail the moonlight out of the lifeboat, <br>no jade Buddha to make your supplications to, <br>no footprints on the water Jesus walked, <br>no cave in Ramadan to receive the angel of light, <br>no Kabbalah to baffle your way through the night, <br>no Schmidt-Cassegrain reflecting telescopes <br>on clock driven equatorial mounts geared to the heavens<br>to thread the golden needle of the mystery <br>without any knots in your spinal cord, <br>to penetrate the vulva of the sea like a sacred shell <br>that once gathered armies on a burning hillside<br>to contest their revelations with the tongues of swords. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I shall tell you, my brother, I shall hasten to you my sister <br>like moonlight through your window, I shall not <br>hold back from you the least shadow of the furthest star <br>releasing its dark wisdom like the black doves <br>of its own excruciating ashes glowing like the pain <br>of horrendous transformations into light. <br>I shall not bring you the skins of the dragons I've shed <br>but inspire you with a fire you've never been burned by before, <br>a spiritual immolation into a godhead without a metaphor <br>to guide you by, a torch you can't drown in your tears, <br>a long firewalk down to a river of stars, <br>and there you shall cross on a burning life raft <br>of the bones you've been carrying around for lightyears like a body.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And it's a heresy of silence to say, but there <br>you shall you shall lie down in the nocturnal emptiness<br>in the long blue seagrass of the moon<br>and empower out of your own creative abundance <br>whatever worlds your longing inspires you to embrace <br>to amuse the bright vacancy of eternity with time, like love, <br>and the dark abundance of unperishing potential <br>with space, like wisdom, and the clear light of the void <br>and the unspeakable absence of any other voice <br>to ruin the silence with the bliss and sorrow of seeking<br>the mystic night you found within you longing like a bird <br>for the stillness to write it like a lyric of the wind, <br>a passage of blood through the labyrinth of the heart, <br>a shadow against the moonrise of a compassionate awareness<br>there's a divinity that sings like a human<br>in the heart of everything that breaks its long fast of nothing <br>with praise and celebration, with fire and light and rain <br>with the firstt sacred syllables to touch the lips <br>of the black rose charred in the heart of the dragon, like poetry.</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=476995" data-title="Undevoted, Free, And Wild de Patrick White" data-description="Undevoted, free, and wild, 
no one to answer to, no one to answer for, 
the urns shattered, and the ashes scattered, 
and the fire liberated to perfect its own combustion 
and the stars without anyone to walk home, 
and the solitude silent, dark, ..."></div>
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