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A Walk

 My eyes already touch the sunny hill.
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp; it has inner light, even from a distance- and charges us, even if we do not reach it, into something else, which, hardly sensing it, we already are; a gesture waves us on answering our own wave.
.
.
but what we feel is the wind in our faces.

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