"Summer was like your house: you know
where each thing stood.
Now you must go out into your heart
as onto a vast plain. Now
the immense loneliness begins
The days go numb, the wind
sucks the world from your senses like
withered leaves.
Through the empty branches the sky
remains.
It is what you have.
Be earth now, and evensong.
Be the ground lying under the sky.
Be modest now, like a thing
ripened until it is real,
so that he who began it all
can feel you when he reaches for you."
Rainer Maria Rilke
From the Book of Hours II, 1
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