TO MUSIC
Music: breathing of statues. Perhaps:
silence of paintings. You language where all language
ends. You time
standing vertically on the motion of mortal hearts.

Feelings for whom? O you the transformation
of feelings into what?-: into audible landscape.
You stranger: music. You heart-space
grown out of us. The deepest space in us,
which, rising above us, forces its way out,-
holy departure:
when the innermost point in us stands
outside, as the most practiced distance, as the other
side of the air:
pure,
boundless,
no longer habitable.

I remember reading this out for a presentation on rainer maria rilke.....

i had almost forgotten the beauty of rilke.....
almost but not quite.....

its amazing how boring it is ’analysing’ poetry and literature for examinations and tests and lengthy papers......
if only there were a place to just be able to interact about the beauty in this instead of trying to come up with a trillion reasons on THAT particular comma used by the ’poet’ which, in turn, symbolises the repressed soemthing in him....

sorry * not that anyone’s reading*...
babbling