The Thing

For the mountains that smile, For the rivers as they flow, For the clouds that hang gently, I bow my head, feeling them near, An embrace of who I am, And thus all becomes whole— As if every rock, tree, and glimmering star, Manifest the essence of all beauty.

For each thing I touch or see— I give breath back to life, For what exists—the blade of grass, The stones of the stream— Are made alive through my gaze, Echoes found in all that I see, Heavens scattered, calling.

In this, I feel myself grow, As a single soul dances With every experience embraced, So that I dwell ever deeper, In the essential bond renewed, With every breath of nature and sight.

• Rainer Maria Rilke