Tuesday, September 22, 2015





Center of all centers, core of cores,
almond self-enclosed and growing sweet -- 
all this universe, to the furthest stars
and beyond them, is your flesh, your fruit. 

Now you feel how nothing clings to you;
your vast shell reaches into endless space,
and there the rich, thick fluids rise and flow.
Illuminated in your infinite peace,

a billion stars go spinning through the night,
blazing high above your head.
But in you is the presence that
will be, when all the stars are dead. 




Rilke

No comments:

Post a Comment