Soma
Resources => Poetry [Public] => Topic started by: Firestarter on August 01, 2023, 05:36:37 PM
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His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.
As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.
Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly--. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.
Rainer Maria Rilke
(https://i.pinimg.com/736x/ab/49/e9/ab49e97e647f7dfaf1f209c762b86081.jpg)