Live your questions now, and perhaps even without knowing it, you will live along some distant day into your answers.

Deeply I go down into myself. My god is Dark and like a webbing made of a hundred roots that drink in silence.

Fig tree, how long it's been full meaning for me, the way you almost entirely omit to flower and into the seasonably-resolute fruit uncelebratedly thrust your purest secret. Like the tube of a fountain, your bent bough drives the sap downwards and up: and it leaps from its sleep, scarce waking, into the joy of its sweetest achievement.

But suppose the endlessly dead were to wake in us some emblem: they might point to the catkins hanging from the empty hazel trees, or direct us to the rain descending on black earth in early spring. --- And we, who always think of happiness rising, would feel the emotion that almost baffles us when a happy thing falls.

Thus we live, forever taking leave.

Strangely, I heard a stranger say, I am with you.

Our task is to take this earth so deeply and wholly into ourselves that it will resurrect within our being.