witness
"Works of art are of an infinite solitude, and there is nothing that reaches them as inadequately as criticism.Only love can properly grasp them, maintain them, and treat them fairly." - Rainer Maria Rilke
To quietly witness what rises within.
Fragmented feelings, thoughts as they are—to feel, to stay with yourself.
This solitude.
You alone—it is absolute, not relative.
Questions remain, the path continues.
To gaze at what has no answer, to dwell with it—it is to love what is absurd, beautiful inside you.
It may seem like a dim forest.
One may feel hesitant.
But the forest is yourself.
The light that illuminates—your own gaze.
Once you realize this, the dim forest reveals its beauty.
"Works of art are of an infinite solitude, and there is nothing that reaches them as inadequately as criticism.Only love can properly grasp them, maintain them, and treat them fairly." - Rainer Maria Rilke
To quietly witness what rises within.
Fragmented feelings, thoughts as they are—to feel, to stay with yourself.
This solitude.
You alone—it is absolute, not relative.
Questions remain, the path continues.
To gaze at what has no answer, to dwell with it—it is to love what is absurd, beautiful inside you.
It may seem like a dim forest.
One may feel hesitant.
But the forest is yourself.
The light that illuminates—your own gaze.
Once you realize this, the dim forest reveals its beauty.