You in the posture of all things. You holder of moss and sorrow and striding.
You and your spoons. You and your carpet.
You seeing me in the ill ponds.
Remember. Remember. you say.
I am holding onto your thumbs.
"Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it srings up, do you not perceive it?" --Isaiah
You springing up in me. Like Rilke said, the nearing future that I am already entering.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
God speaks to each of us as he makes us, then walks with us silently out of the night. These are the words we dimly hear: You sent out beyond your recall, go the limits of your longing. Embody me. Flare up like flame and make big shadows I can move in. Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror, Just keep going. No feeling is final. Don't let yourself lose me. Nearby is the country they call life. You will know it by its seriousness. Give me your hand. Rilke
1 comment:
the water that i will give will become in you a spring of water gushing up to eternal life
Post a Comment