FROM THE LETTERS TO A YOUNG POET WROTE BY RAINER MARIA RILKE.
“Nobody can counsel and help you, nobody. There is only one single way. Go into yourself. Search for the reason that bids you write (take photos); find out whether it is spreading out its roots in the deepest places of your heart, acknowledge to yourself whether you would have to die if it were denied you to write (take photos). This above all—ask yourself in the stillest hour of your night: must I write? Delve into yourself for a deep answer. And if this should be affirmative, if you may meet this earnest question with a strong and simple ‘7 must” then build your life according to this necessity; your life even into its most indifferent and slightest hour must be a sign of this urge and a testimony to it Then draw near to Nature.”
“describe your sorrows and desires, passing thoughts and the belief in some sort of beauty—describe all these with loving, quiet, humble sincerity, and use, to express yourself, the things in your environment, the images from your dreams, and the objects of your memory. If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself, tell yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for to the creator, there is no poverty and no poor indifferent place.”
“A work of art is good if it has sprung from necessity. In this nature of its origin lies the judgment of it: there is no other. Therefore, my dear sir, I know no advice for you save this: to go into yourself and test the deeps in which your life takes rise; at its source, you will find the answer to the question whether you must create. Accept it, just as it sounds, without inquiring into it. Perhaps it will turn out that you are called to be an artist.”
I have tried to convince myself to keep up safely in my garden. But I have only closed myself from the rest of the world.
I lied to myself for too many times.
I have tried to close my eyes and don’t feel anything until I died inside. I looked back, and I show closed and open tombs.
I step back from you when you saw me.
I run left and right, up and down as like a med person, until I saw you into a reflex between lights and shadows.
I am looking into your eyes for the first time, and I can feel how your fear has grown. Until now that you are not the same person you are.
Is it the way?