His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars, and behind the bars, no world.
As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.
Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tense, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.
~~Rainer Maria Rilke
(Translated by Stephen Mitchell)
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Author
this is for you.
But here’s one from me from 2003 …
Author
Author
U have written a poem that WE just LOVE
the first one that U put on this site
after WE beged U 2
at the time WE were not good enough at blogs to express our opinion very well
WE would like you to repeat it if you could PLEASE
(begging again)
<*o^>—>ME
(*-*0—> ME2
Author
Author
Author
who’s up next? i’m very, very serious.
this is an offering of beauty.
the temple steps are swept.
the incense is lit.
there are soft chimes in the distance.
and birds.
and breeze.
please bring your offerings.
…in fact have been doing so already, reading about healing and origins and things that matter. Blessingways and Changing Woman, politics and science, mythology and behavior.
I appreciate the friendship expressed here…and in other close by places yesterday and last night. I have to go search for some context.
A little story from Les Feinberg:
Author
posted this in Robyn’s “Muse” today but wanted to re-post here too. because i think it fits, maybe sort of or maybe just because it is one of my favorite poems.