Thursday Poem - A Walk

My eyes already touch the sunny hill,

going far ahead of the road I have begun.

So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;

it has its inner light, even from a distance—

and changes us, even if we do not reach it,

into something else, which, hardly sensing it,

we already are; a gesture waves us on,

answering our own wave…

but what we feel is the wind in our faces.

Rainer Maria Rilke