My eyes already touch the sunny hill,
going far beyond the road I have begun,
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
It has an inner light, even from a distance-
and changes us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it,
we already are;
a gesture waves us on answering our own wave . . .
but what we feel is the wind in our faces.
-Rainer Maria Rilke