Interior of the hand. Sole that has come to walk <br />only on feelings. That faces upward <br />and in its mirror <br />receives heavenly roads, which travel <br />along themselves. <br />That has learned to walk upon water <br />when it scoops, <br />that walks upon wells, <br />transfiguring every path. <br />That steps into other hands, <br />changes those that are like it <br />into a landscape: <br />wanders and arrives within them, <br />fills them with arrival.<br /><br />Rainer Maria Rilke<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/palm/
