They all have weary tongues...

...and bright, seamless souls.

And a yearning (as for sin)

sometimes goes through their dream.

 

They all seem so alike;

in God's garden silent they remain,

like many, many intervals

in his power and melody.

 

Only when their wings spread out,

are they the awakeners of a wind:

as if God with his broad hands

of a sculptor went through the pages

of the beginning's dark book.

 

"The Angels" by Rainer Maria Rilke

Done