I was tempted to deliberately craft a happy post for all of you out in the blog-o-sphere. Just for you, to let you know that I'm not unhappy or depressed or going to jump off any bridges any time soon. But I'm not any of those things, many of you interacting with me regularly know that. I'm happy most of the time. And crafting something just to reassure the rest of you is really out of line with my birthday gift to myself. So instead I'm sharing a poem that spoke to me:
Everything is far
and long gone by.
I think that the star
glittering above me
has been dead for a million years.
I think there were tears
in the car I heard pass
and something terrible was said.
A clock has stopped striking in the house
across the road . . .
When did it start? . . .
I would like to step out of my heart
and go walking beneath the enormous sky.
I would like to pray.
And surely of all the stars that perished
one still exists.
I think that I know
which one it is--
which one, at the end of its beam in the sky,
stands like a white city . . .
Rainer Maria Rilke
Special thanks to Sarah Bessey for mentioning Mr. Rilke, not sure how I lived 32 years without her, or if my soul only recently awoke to the gift of poetry.