The leaves are falling, falling as if from far up,
as if orchards were dying high in space.
Each leaf falls as if it were motioning “no.”
And tonight the heavy earth is falling
away from all other stars in the loneliness.
We’re all falling. This hand here is falling.
And look at the other one. It’s in them all.
And yet there is there’s One, whose hands
infinitely calm, holding up all this falling.
— Rainer Maria Rilke (translation by Robert Bly)
A sonic journey through artistry, resistance, and transformation through music & poetry.
Existence is a state of constant flux, as is what it means to be sacred
Those who will not slip beneath the still surface on the well of grief,
You and I have spoken all these words / but for the way we have to go, words are no preparation
"I hope to God you will not ask me to go anywhere except my own country
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