Wednesday, December 31, 2014

the watchful woman . . .


And God said to me, Paint: 

Time is the canvas 
stretched by my pain:

the watchful woman, 
the wounds of Christ, 
the city’s sad bacchanals, 
the madness of kings. 

And God said to me, Go forth:
 

For I am king of time.
But to you I am only the shadowy one 
who knows with you your loneliness 
and sees through your eyes. 

He sees through my eyes in all the ages.

Rilke