Out of infinite longings rise finite deeds like a fountain, falling back just in time and trembling. And yet, what otherwise remains silent, our happy energies show themselves in these dancing tears. You followed slowly and took a long time as if something were still left to transcend; and yet: as if after the transition, you would no longer walk, but fly. And you wait, keep waiting for that one thing which would infinitely enrich your life: the powerful, uniquely uncommon, the awakening of dormant stones, depths that would reveal you to yourself. In the dusk you notice the book shelves with their volumes in gold and in brown; and you think of far lands you journeyed, of pictures and of shimmering gowns. And it comes to you all of a sudden: That was it! And you arise, for you are aware of a year in your distant past with its events and prayers.
My eyes already touch the sunny hill, going far ahead of the road I have begun. So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp; it has its inner light, even from a distance and changes us, even if we do not reach it, into something else, which, hardly sensing it, we already are; a gesture waves us on, answering our own wave... but what we feel is the wind in our face ...
