My room and this distance,
awake upon the darkening land, are one.
I am a string stretched across deep
Things are violin bodies
full of murmuring darkness,
where women’s weeping dreams,
where the rancor of whole generations
stirs in its sleep . . .
I should release
my silver vibrations: then
everything below me will live,
and whatever strays into things
will seek the light
that falls without end from my dancing tone
into the old abysses
around which heaven swells
imploring rifts.. R. Maria Rilke
A sleepless night…a light from the window tells the story of a "woman’s weeping dream" …view large.
Sedimentary Watercolours on Arches Not Paper..