I traveled to the edge of my longing to find a curved horizon, a land of gold,
a place where the longing was no longer mine,
light from all sides, no shadows to hide,
yet try as I might, light too bright for my eyes.
I traveled to the edge of my longing to find
the limit of time, so young, so old,
like the foggy veil in the story that's told,
wrapped by the centuries, cracked by the blind,
I traveled to the edge of my longing to find
a curved horizon, a land of gold.
You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing. Embody me. Nearby is the country they call life. -Rilke
Image credit: Nona Neve (check out her work; she's brilliant!)
