From Rilke’s Book of Hours

You, mountain,
Here since mountains began
slopes where nothing is built
Peaks that no one has named,

Eternal snows littered with stars,
Valleys in flower—

Do I move inside you now?
Am I within the rock
Like a metal that hasn’t been mined?
Your hardness
Encloses me everywhere

Or is it fear I am caught in?
The tightening fear
of swollen cities
in which I suffocate.

–Rainer Maria Rilke

kandinsky-circles

Have a Tao Day.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s