As the second-hand makes its way around the clock face, I have escaped into Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet. Abandoning my own ship to come aboard his, I soon find Rilke’s insights and words easily move me to tears, readily evoking such intimacy of emotion.
Nobody worships so entirely as the poet. Nobody devotes the totality of their senses with such profound faith quite like Rilke. Why else bother lifting a pen than to animate such delicacies of the human heart?