Give me your hand

And back to casting little notes into the abyss.


This is the sound of a man touched by God. (It's not summertime, I know, but I don't think something this good can wait until summer. Anyway, I think what he conjures up here is more a yearning for summer, for sun upon shoulders and face and hands.)

Rilke:

Interior of the hand. Sole that has come to walk
only on feelings. That faces upward
and in its mirror
receives heavenly roads, which travel
along themselves.
That has learned to walk upon water
when it scoops,
that walks upon wells,
transfiguring every path.
That steps into other hands,
changes those that are like it
into a landscape:
wanders and arrives within them,
fills them with arrival.”

PS. There are other things going on over here: http://interiordialogues.tumblr.com/