I GOT THIS FAR
I got this far only to find out
I was too far gone.
No way back.
No way on.
I think I’ll just stay here
like a continental shelf
that keeps falling off
the edge of itself.
Life’s absurd I know.
Life’s deeper than sorrow
and higher than joy.
The past of the old man
was the future of the boy.
When space and time divide
into one discontinuum
who’s the widow
who’s the bride?
And then there’s the dark.
And then there’s the light.
Is the moon two goddesses
in one gown?
Master the loser
and the winner is bound.
I keep my nightface
turned toward the stars.
The other’s eating flowers.
God may be cutting
but she’s not malignant.
Little we see in nature that is ours.
That’s why I look at the stars.
Space is pregnant
with gravitational eyes
of dark matter
that can see into the heart of things.
And time’s a proud father.
And it’s a toss-up
between a mirror and a lense
whether time resembles you
in the way you look upon the world
or you’re the spitting image
of an ancestral abyss.
This is perfect.
That is perfect.
Take perfect from perfect
it’s still perfect.
I’m in the presence
of all the things I miss.
PATRICK WHITE
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