Σάββατο, 24 Ιανουαρίου 2009

we for whom grief is so often the source of our spirit's growth could we exist without them?

Shouldn't this most ancient of sufferings finally grow more fruitful for us?
Isn't it time that we lovingly freed ourselves from the beloved and,
quivering, endured: as the arrow endures the bowstring's tension,
so that gathered in the snap of release it can be more than itself.
For there is no place where we can remain.
Strange to no longer desire one's desires.
Strange to see meanings that clung together once, floating away in every direction.
we, who do need such great mysteries, we for whom grief is so often the source of our spirit's growth,could we exist without them?
Rilke again and again as i came back from Trieste Rilke's Elegies remain

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