God Poetry Music Imagination Creativity Consciousness Transcendent love Music All are one and the same for the great poet Rainer Maria Rilke Music Music When you listen to Rilke,
You feel him wrestling with his inner demons and gods Music Is he in heaven?
Or hell?
Does he believe or disbelieve?
Rilke never knew Music Music There was a modern mystic,
A man-boy who grew up rejecting Christianity imposed on him by his mother A mother who raised him as a girl For Rilke,
God was the poem itself And like all mystics,
God is something beyond ideas or words Instead,
God is a direction,
A struggle toward finding oneself in the chaos of nature,
Humanity and love God was an image you could never quite touch,
And thus he touches believers and disbelievers alike Rilke once penned All great poets drunk with fame listened to their simple songs Like the words of God from Sinai Music Shammah Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adonai Echad Listen and wrestle with your own image of God as you glimpse the oneness that binds us together in peace Music Music Music Music Music Music Music Music Music Music Music I am too alone in this world and not alone enough to make every hour holy.
I am too small in the world but not small enough to lie before you like a thing.
I am dark,
Secretive,
And wise.
I want my own will and I want to be with my will as it moves toward embracing you.
And in those quiet,
Somehow motionless times,
When something is approaching,
I want to be with those who know secret things or else alone.
I want to be your mirror reflecting your perfection and never to be too blind or too old to hold your wavering image.
I want to unfold.
Nowhere do I want to remain folded.
For where I am folded,
There I am a lie.
And I want my life to be true before you,
Like a painting that I've studied,
Like a new word I have finally understood,
Like a glass of clear water,
Like the face of my mother,
And like a ship that carries me through the wildest storm of all.
I want to be your mirror reflecting your perfection and never to be too blind or too old to hold your wavering image.
I want to be your mirror reflecting your perfection and never to be too old to hold your wavering image.
Musicians,
Stop.
Drummer,
Lose your hand.
Dancer,
Bind your feet.
Your beauty frightens me.
It tears my heart,
Wounds my soul.
I dare not tolerate your voice.
My tongue will soon depart and my stray words will fall away.
Emptiness descends and in that darkened moment,
My eyes turn up,
Reflections of your moon.
I am your mirror reflecting your perfection and never to be too old to hold your wavering image.
