The Dream

The nights carry on endless, silken threads touching the wane. Each moment swells its own flowing, humming waves like memories own. “O spring,” sings the willow, “Return thy soul from what hungers.” With every breath from heart to earth, we learn the renewing day and night, which clouds soon draw near, and leave, a warmth that draws shadows long, across the fringes of the wild bloom.

• Rainer Maria Rilke