Guest guest Posted January 21, 2003 Report Share Posted January 21, 2003 And yet, though we strainagainst the deadening gripof daily necessity,I sense there is this mystery:All life is being lived.Who is living it then?Is it the things themselves,or something waiting inside them,like an unplayed melody in a flute?Is it the winds blowing over the waters?Is it the branches that signal to each other?Is it flowersinterweaving their fragrancesor streets, as they wind through time?~ Rainer Maria Rilke(From Book of Hours, translated by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy) Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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