Sunday, January 3, 2010

I love the dark hours of my being.
My mind deepens into them.
There I can find, as in old letters,
the days of my life, already lived,
and held like a legend, and understood.

Then the knowing comes, I can open
to another life that's wide and timeless.

So I am sometimes like a tree
rustling over a gravesite
and making real the dream
of the one its living roots
embrace:

a dream once lost
among the sorrows and songs.
          -Rainer Maria Rilke
         (translated by Anita Barrows & Joanna Macy)

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