All Becomes Festival

You, you only, exist.

We pass away, till at last,

our passing is so immense

that you arise: beautiful moment,

in all your suddenness,

arising in love, or enchanted

in the contraction of work.

 

To you I belong, however time may

wear me away. From you to you

I go commanded. In between

the garland is hanging in chance; but if you

take it up and up and up: look:

all becomes festival!

 

Rainer Maria Rilke. You, you only, exist.

Done