Rilke ~ The bowl of roses


And aren’t they all doing the same: simply containing themselves,
If to contain oneself means: to transform the world outside
And wind and rain and patience of spring
And guilt and restlessness and disguised fate
And darkness of earth at evening
All the way to the errancy, flight, and coming on of clouds,
All the way to the vague influence of the distant stars
Into a hand full of inwardness.
Now it lies free of cares in the open roses.

Neglected Blog (sorry)

I have been sorely neglecting this blog lately. Instead I have actually been journalling using an actual paper book and an actual pen! I made a new year’s resolution to write two pages of something every day, and so far I have stuck to it. My journal doesn’t make very interesting reading though, so I don’t have any current plans to share it. But I will hopefully be writing more again shortly and posting things once again. We apologize for any inconvenience caused.