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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=486076" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>At The Extreme</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=486076" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">at the extreme<br>coldness is the coldness of the arctic snow<br>and hotness is the hotness of the volcanic flow<br>he got them all and he survived them all<br>his palms know what are all these things all about<br>but he never stopped touching<br>he touched the rays of the sun at noon<br>with his hands opening in prayer<br>he touched the frost with his fingers<br>he disliked his fists<br>he opted more for the silence of the dusks<br>and the patience of some longer nights<br>at the extremes of seasons and events<br>he continued talking to the trees and all its leaves<br>to his horse to his dog to his door<br>to his chair to his bed<br>to his stair<br>he kept his prayers</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=486076" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">He lives. He is very much alive. His solitude his nest.<br>His prayers shaped the wings of a white bird.<br>His stone his silence. His strength, his spirit.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a></strong></div>