By Rainer Maria Rilke, translation by Joanna Macy & Anita Barrows
God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.
These are the words we dimly hear:
You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don’t let yourself lose me.
Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.
Give me your hand.
From Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God.
Posted by kind permission of Joanna Macy.
Two loons on a lake in the evening fog, air thick with it, pale water…
Joy, my Life Mystery, my Partner Belonging, my Love Narrowness, my Encounter Fear, my Poison…
Here, where the rivers dredge up the very stone of Heaven, we name its colors—…
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