Sunday, August 4, 2013

requiem for a friend (excerpt)


I have my dead, and I have let them go,
and was amazed to see them so contented,
so soon at home in being dead, so cheerful,
so unlike their reputation.  Only you
return; brush past me, loiter, try to knock
against something, so that the sound reveals
your presence.  Oh don't take from me what I
am slowly learning.  I'm sure you have gone astray
it you are moved to homesickness for anything
in this dimension.  We transform these Things;
they aren't real, they are only the reflections
upon the polished surface of our being.

–Rainer Maria Rilke


via datura


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