dr_knownothing

my life is not this steeply sloping hour,
in which you see me hurrying.
much stands behind me; i stand before it like a tree;
i am only one of my many mouths,
and at that, the one that will be still the soonest.
i am the rest between two notes,
which are somehow always in discord
because death's note wants to climb over-
but in the dark interval, reconciled,
they stay there trembling.

and the song goes on, beautiful.

-rainer maria rilke "the book of hours" 1900.