Slowly the west reaches for clothes of new colors 
which it passes to a row of ancient trees. You look, 
and soon these two worlds both leave you, 
one part climbs toward heaven, one sinks to earth,
leaving you your own life, 
timid and standing high and growing, so that, sometimes blocked in, 
sometimes reaching out, one moment your life is a stone in you, and the next, a star. 
- Rilke

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