Unending one, you’ve shown myself to me.
In the place you wrote into being
where the image of God made Man
and the image of Man made God
meet – there, in that friendly place
where such daunting names quite disappear,
where the eternal becomes practical
and the Word is heard as if I spoke it,
and myself is every self,
and I am free of all preconceptions,
neither Christian, Jew, Moslem, Hindu –
the place where all may be discussed,
where all may be heard,
where two voices become one certainty,
where unicorns may be seen,
where there are no secrets,
where poetry arises
in that place
you’ve shown myself to me.
Once again, this goes in my favorites. Your (Rilke's?) description of such a place where all preconceptions are gone is so captivating, but your ending of this poem with the brief lines 'where poetry arises...' makes me want to hurry away to write and write and write. Thanks for this inspiration. Raynette
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Rilke was great at exposing that part of the person that heals through decompression...you nailed it, Michael. Poetry is a road map that seems to always lead back to the self - the position of the quite observer - processing his/her POV -. I felt closer to you while reading this...and good about that part of myself that I protect through most of most days. Thank you.