Rilke

sickness is sensitivity,
softness,
bare nudity: do
not fore'er expect
to change others,
but to accept
your nature as something
divinely
polite

the rudeness of a stranger
speaks
truths of what
people say of you.

and in
the sweet tree
is the bound image
of
dionysius,
frozen architecture
of his
tearing-apart,
adorned with ornaments,
sunbeams,
rusts:
darling rustlers,
so stellar born as
babes,
and do not
like angry children
grunt
and swear vengeance, but turn
what's left to
your
sway.