Sonnets to Orpheus, Part
One, XII
Bless the spirit that makes
connections,
for truly we live in what we imagine.
Clocks move along side our real life
with steps that are ever the same.
for truly we live in what we imagine.
Clocks move along side our real life
with steps that are ever the same.
Though we do not know our
exact location,
we are held in place by what links us.
Across trackless distances
antennas sense each other.
we are held in place by what links us.
Across trackless distances
antennas sense each other.
Pure attention, the essence
of the powers!
Distracted by each day's doing,
how can we hear the signals?
Distracted by each day's doing,
how can we hear the signals?
Even as the farmer
labors
there where the seed turns into summer,
it is not his work. It is Earth who gives.
there where the seed turns into summer,
it is not his work. It is Earth who gives.
~ Rainer Maria Rilke
~
(In Praise of Mortality,
translated and edited by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy)
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