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Let this darkness be a bell tower and you the bell

R.M. Rilke

It emerges from the morning darkness opposite the bus stop. It’s been there for a long time. I used to notice it more often. Quite unexpectedly, it starts snowing. I’m sleepily waiting for the bus with the headphones. Slowly, the snowflakes flutter around the lantern. Then I see colourful wings on the gate of O’Connell’s Bar.

And immediately, something lovely rings within me. My heart absorbs this golden light. Even the cobalt bins against the stone wall next to the butterfly become magical. Now I gaze upon this changing picture like a scene every day around six in the morning. Waiting for the bus merges with the art that ordinary days paint for me.

On Tuesday, the wings are slightly obscured by a metal trailer. On Wednesday, dozens of barreles of Guinness gleam against the wall. And on Thursday, a cement mixer with an orange jacket and a wheelbarrow charmingly complement my morning image.

The gloomy January in Galway no longer has such power over me.

Move back and forth into the change – Rilke wishers.

So I leave the house in the morning with curiosity, because I wonder what composition I will see around the butterfly this time.

Quiet friend who has come so far,

feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell. As you ring,

what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
What is it like, such intensity of pain?
If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.

In this uncontainable night,
be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning discovered there.

And if the world has ceased to hear you,
say to the silent earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am.

“The Sonnets to Orpheus, XXIX” by R.M. Rike.