“Being an artist means,
not reckoning and counting, but ripening
like the tree
which does not force its sap
and stands confident
in the storms of spring, without the fear
that after them may come no summer.”
— Rainer Maria Rilke
I am
I am, as a tree is, at sunset, a golden stream. In the depths of doubt, a rock without shield (…)
I am
As a tree is
At sunset,
A golden stream.
In the depths of doubt
A rock without shield
I am
The space in between
A warrior in spirit
A thousand years-old
An ever looking soul
I am
Only to be found
In the quiet and the now
And when I look for myself
In pain, hurry or blind
I know that coming back
To where I stand now,
Forever more
I am who I am. —
“It does come. But it comes
only to the patient,
who are there as though eternity lay before them,
so unconcernedly still and wide.
I learn it daily, learn it with pain
to which I am grateful:
patience is everything!”
