I bet it rhymed in german..

Lovers, had they the time, could
recite words of wonder to the night.
But most things end by concealing us.
Look: trees are!
Our shelters endure.
But we, like mingled winds,
claim no single habitat.
All things conspire to
keep us secret-half,
it seems, from shame
and half in token of
some unspoken hope.
..
Angel! Were there an unknown place
where, upon an uncanny carpet, lovers
could disport themselves in ways
here inconceivable-daring ariel maneuvers
of the heart, scaling high plateaus of passion,
ladders leaning one against the other,
planted trembling upon the void...
Were there such a place, would their
performance prove convincing to an audience
of the innumerable and silent dead?
Would not these dead toss down their
final, hoarded, secret coins of joy,
legal tender of eternity, before the
couple smiling on that detumescent carpet,
fully satisfied?

--Rainer Maria Rilke
(From the Duino Elegies)

What in the world?

There's not a whole lot I can do about a lot in the world. I try to be myself, and all the wrong people fall for all the wrong reasons, and instead of making me happy and unappreciative, I feel guilt, remorse, lonliness. Not exactly the feelings love and kindness should give me. I don't understand the world anymore. I thought I did. I guess I never will. I realize, though, that the only thing that will keep me strong and give me happiness is myself. I need to make my own sucess. I need to create my own destiny, my own future. My own life, I suppose.
But I just wish it was like it was. Used to be, I mean. But nothing ever is or will be. All I can do is live or die. I can just be.


Fall-time sure is pretty.