Today I remembered some lines from Rilke:
Ah, not to be cut off,
not through the slightest partition
shut out from the law of the stars.
The inner — what is it?
if not the intensified sky,
hurled through with birds and deep
with the winds of homecoming.
I don’t know if Rilke knew he was talking about the Kingdom of Heaven, but what else could be so transcendent and immanent, so intimate and remote? What but our truest home could be expressed in language so true?
And today, I am hurled through with the winds of homecoming. I pray my life will only become less cut off.