As if he were listening: stillness, distance.
We hold our breath and cease to hear it.
He is like a star surrounded
by other stars we cannot see.
He is all things. Do we really expect him
to notice us? What need could he have?
If we prostrated ourselves at his feet,
he would remain deep and calm like a cat.
For what threw us down before him
has circled in him for millions of years.
He, who has gone beyond all we can know
and knows what we never will.
— Rilke, New Poems