Poem with a line from Rilke

Be as a ringing glass, already shattered by ringing.
Be as a bubble, prismed by piercing.

In a world that regards effort as extraneous,
embroider the needle after finishing with the cloth.

Don't fear looking back though you're told
you don't need to count the faltering.

Collect the flowers of winter on your sleeve;
exalt in their precision and difference.

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