You,
beloved,
who were lost before the beginning, who never came,
I do not know which sounds might be precious to you.
No longer do I try to recognize you, when, as a surging wave, something is about to manifest.
All the huge images in me, the deeply-sensed far-away landscapes, cities and towers and bridges and un-suspected turns of the path, the powerful life of landsonce filled with the presence of gods: all rise with you to find clear meaning in me, your, forever, elusive one.
You, who are all the gardens I've ever looked upon, full of promise. An open windowin a country house—, and you almost stepped towards me, thoughtfully. Sidestreets I happened upon,—you had just passed through them, and sometimes, in the small shops of sellers, the mirrors were still dizzy with you and gave back, frightened, my too sudden form.—Who is to say if the same bird did not resound through us both yesterday, separate, in the evening?
Rilke(Paris, winter 1913 - 14)
About Me
- Edward Thomas
- More than just a Man, but also, a human being as well; Me, I'm just as often found @ the center of the struggle, but never as someones absent minded follower. True enough, I love my Mother, and though I'm eager to be perfect, I actually prefer to be nice, than have my own way! When asked, my closest friends would say that I am often in the company of the wind: The Wind(a dear friend of mine since birth) and I are often near and around you, and though, we're not always seen or felt near you, it's always better understood within you. Odd I know, but true nonetheless. True, not unlike the truth contained withing the thought of me flying would appear, but then again, when the wind wills, well, often I've awoken in strange places and had to patiently await his return, so as to get back home again. Luckily, he never lingers long, for it's hard enough explaining my discernment (of)to people. Imagine the after shock of a early morning phone call from Cleveland???
