Ever turned toward what we create, we see in it
only reflections of the Open, darkened by us.
Except when an animal silently looks us through and through.
This is our fate: to stand
in our own way. Forever
in the way.
— Rilke, From the Eighth Duino Elegy
In the way until we die, so I’d rather live and be in the way of pure transcendence, the “Open.”