Scaramouche, Scaramouche

Yesterday night my dad's mom passed away.

I miss her.

---

II, 29

Quiet friend of many distances, feel
how your breath still enlarges space.
Let yourself ring out, a dark cradled bell
in the timbering. That, which erodes you

gains a strength from your sustenance.
Go out and in, through transformation.
What is your experience of greatest loss?
Is drinking bitter, then become wine.

Be, in this night made of excess,
the magic art at the crossroads of your senses,
the sense of their strange encounter.

And, if the earthbound forget you,
say to the silent Earth : I flow.
To the rushing water say: I am.

-Rainer Maria Rilke