When Something Falls from a Window (Even the Smallest Thing) by Rainer Maria Rilke
How the law of gravity strong as an ocean current brings to bay each ball and berry and carries them to the navel of the world.
Each stone, blossom, and child is guarded by a grace ready for flight. Only we, in our arrogance, push out beyond what we belong to into empty space.
If we surrendered to the earth's intelligence we could rise up rooted, like trees. Instead we entangle ourselves in knots of our own making, namelessly alone outside each circle.
We must begin again to learn from things, like children, because they are in God's heart. They never left him. This is what things can teach us: to fall, to patiently trust our weightiness. Even a bird must do that before it can fly.
Almond Trees in Blossom by Rainer Maria Rilke
Almond trees in blossom: all we can do here is recognize our own earthly appearance that leaves no trace. I’m always amazed at you, happy ones, at your demeanor, at how you wear the ephemeral ornament with eternal sense. Oh, if only we knew how to blossom: our heart would rise above every small danger and find peace in the greatest danger of all.
I Love the Dark Hours of My Being by Rainer Maria Rilke
I love the dark hours of my being. My senses deepen into them. There I can find, as in old letters, the days of my life already lived and read like a story, and understood.
They come with the knowing I can open to another life that is wide and limitless.
So I am sometimes like a tree rustling over a grave, making real the dream of the one its living roots hold tight: a dream once lost in anguish and song.