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"Occasionally I pass by little shops-in the rue de
Seine, for example. Dealers in antiques or small
second hand book-sellers or vendors of engravings
with overcrowded windows. No one ever enters their
shops; they apparently do no business. But if one looks
in, they are sitting there, sitting and reading, without a
care; they take no thought for the morrow, are not
anxious about any success, have a dog that sits before
them, all good-nature, or a cat that makes the silence
still greater by gliding along the rows of books, as if it
were rubbing the names off their backs.
Ah, if that were enough: sometimes I would like to
buy such a full shop-window for myself and to sit
down behind it with a dog for twenty years."
excerpt from The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge
by Rainer Maria Rilke
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the mist,
the mist fills the land again,
shadows abound as i commune
with spirits of another age, the land
and earth speaks to me in these silent
distant times, a calm quiet fills the air,
it is a time to remember ancient and
hidden things, a time to remember
why we are here, a forgotten purpose,
a vow, a promise, a solemn oath,
it is always in the middle of the night,
in my most quiet and still hour, that i hear
unspoken words across great distance,
across immense time, through an unfathomable
abyss and an impenetrable wall, thru the mist,
to bridge the void, and hear,
another's soul,
speaking,
peace,
Arthur,
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