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 overβ€” but in the dark interval, reconciled, they stay there trembling. And the song goes on, beautiful. ✨ Rainer Maria Rilke (1981). Selected Poems

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