look at the flowers...
Look at the flowers, so faithful to what
to whom we lend fate from the very
border of fate.
and if they are sad about how they
must wither and die,
perhaps it is our vocation to be their
All things want to fly, only we are
weighed down by desire,
caught in ourselves and enthralled with
oh what consuming, negative teachers
for them, while eternal childhood fills
them with grace.
If someone were to fall into intimate
slumber, and slept
deeply with Things - : how easily he
to a different day, out of the mutual
Or perhaps he would stay there; and
they would blossom and praise
their newest convert, who now is like
one of them,
all those silent companions in the wind
of the meadows.
words: r.m.rilke, sonnets to orpheus
image:cyanotype RPPC, 1910