Reaching

Photo: here

“I want health and healing and holding close. I want treasures. I want similar souls. I want passionate yeses. I want to be blown away. I want to trust. I want calm gladness and prayers and deep true breath talks.”

There is a stillness in the way we speak to each other.

At times I know how hard I seem,
the difficult way I look at things.
I know this. The real problem lies when
I don’t think people will see past this part of me;
how underneath, I am not like this.
I wish for my eyes to show this.

I think of this, automatically:

"I tell you that I have a long way to go before I am-
where one begins …
You are so young, so before all beginning,
and I want to beg you as much as I can to be patient
toward all that is unresolved in your heart and to try
to love the questions themselves. Like locked rooms
and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue.
Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given to you
because you would not be able to live them.
And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now.
Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it,
live along some distant day into the answer.
Resolve to be always beginning- to be a beginner."
-Rilke

My fingers are reaching, but I know it is wrong.
Still, I cannot help this, or myself.