More Rilke poetry... bits I find inspiring
I was there with the first mythmakers and monks
who made up your stories, traced your runes.
But now I see you:
wind, woods, and water,
[...] I want to portray you
not with lapis or gold, but with colors made of apple bark.
You look on the near no differently from the far,
and if they've learned to plant you more deeply
or build more grandly upon you,
you barely feel it. You hear
neither sower nor reaper
when their footsteps pass over you.