The hint half guessed, the gift half understood, is [Poetry].
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
Here are
the years that walk between, bearing
Away the fiddles and the flutes, restoring
One who moves in the time between sleep and waking, wearing
White light folded, sheathing about her, folded.
But when I look ahead up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you ...
surrounded
By a grace of sense, a white light still and moving,
Erhebung without motion, concentration
Without
elimination
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