Saturday, July 12, 2014

languaging Rilke

by Roberto Lavidez

nothing is
what it is
it’s as though
everything
would have
a second life
so that
for time
we act life
transported
not thinking
of applause
the hard
labor of
living
the long
experience
of love
when
together
we felt
happiness
it belonged
to none
of us
you language
where
languages
end
for no course
leads back
we
the endlessly
ventured
hastening
through
the once
existent
future
for everything
still lacks
conclusion
creatures
of a dream
engendered
in the throes
of anguish
that you
occupied
and left ache
more
being opposite
and nothing else
and always
opposite
we were
happiest with
what always
stayed
the same
how strangely
everything
behaves
the mountains
are heavy
the oceans
are heavy
we see only
the reflection
of the Open
which our
own presence
darkens
pining rifts
into the
old abysses
endlessly
falls
pure
immense
no longer
to be
lived in
flowers
yellow pearls
slender bones
hands and
tunics
faded
weavings
above the
caved-in heart
aren’t they all
that way
simply
self-
containing
sing the
gardens
my heart
those you
never knew
may death
less darkly
find its way
then solitude
runs with
the rivers…

©robertolavidez2014






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