Saturday, August 25, 2012

rainer maria rilke

You nights of anguish.  Why didn't I kneel more deeply to accept you,

Inconsolable sisters, and, surrendering, lose myself
in your loosened hair.  How we squander our hours of pain.

How we gaze beyond them into the bitter duration
To see if they have an end.  Though they are really
Seasons of us, our winter . . .




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