of Rainer Maria Rilke's [I am, O Anxious One. Don't you hear my voice]
I am, O Anxious One. Don't you hear my voice
surging forth with all my earthly feelings?
They yearn so high that they have sprouted wings
and whitely fly in circles around your face.
My soul, dressed in silence, rises up
and stands alone before you: can't you see?
Don't you know that my prayer is growing ripe
upon your vision, as upon a tree?
If you are the dreamer, I am what you dream.
But when you want to wake, I am your wish,
and I grow strong with all magnificence
and turn myself into a star's vast silence
above the strange and distant city, Time.
My Improv':
If you are the sin eater, I am what you live for.
But when you want to die, I am your endless last breath,
and I am without the comfort of a grave. I grow
like a planet in the dark, silent and always hungry
and I grow shallow in body. My mind entertains the dying
stars, constellations afraid of burning too brightly
through their own skin. I am the slightest breeze of day you fear.
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