after reading jolie's blog
19, from the sonnets to orpheus by rainer maria rilke.
Quick though the earth itself churns,
changing like cloud formations,
each fulfilled thing returns
to ancient foundations.
Beyond changing and passing,
freer and higher,
your prelude is alone lasting:
god with the lyre.
Grief is beyond comprehension.
True love has never been learned.
Nor do we know by what agency
we are to death interned.
Only the song over the land
yields blessing and commemoration.
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