Status Updates From The Duino Elegies

Were not love and parting
Laid on their shoulders with so light a touch
As though they knew them in a different guise?

elegy 2: Infinity within a finite being…
As dew from springing grass, as the hot steam from smoking dish, so the intrinsic self exhales itself away...
See, it has happened to me that my hands grew conscious of each other…
Yet who would dare, by that, to say: I am?

Discussion on mortality and the afterlife, of faith and of humanity and of the brevity of existence.

Is it not time that we who love should free ourselves from the beloved, and quivering, resist? Most like the arrow that strives against the bowstring, gathered up, that in its leap it may transcend itself.
Nothing which is, is static.

the beautiful is nothing other than the inset of what is terrifying, something we just barely withstand and were struck with wonder at how calmly it destroys us.

every one of the angels is terrifying.

every angel terrifies

how many stars have urged you to become aware of them.