A certain day became a presence to me; <br />there it was, confronting me--a sky, air, light: <br />a being. And before it started to descend <br />from the height of noon, it leaned over <br />and struck my shoulder as if with <br />the flat of a sword, granting me <br />honor and a task. The day's blow <br />rang out, metallic--or it was I, a bell awakened, <br />and what I heard was my whole self <br />saying and singing what it knew: I can.<br /><br />Denise Levertov<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/variation-on-a-theme-by-rilke/
