How powerful is the continuum of the It-world, and how tender the manifestations of the You.
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It is something before and beyond - outside - friendship. Without it, friends and more than friends would never meet or part. Rare, yet near. Under the feet. Everyone tries to find it, going here and there, doing this and that - believing in it or not, they try, they do. Few know it exists. Some taste it and hurriedly lock the doors and close all shades and shutters. It is without creed or confession, belief or unbelief. It does not wait. Something tugs at the heart, feel it or not. It offers itself as a gift. Humble, one can receive. Depths surface to meet you - already has. Returning to the center, the horizons, from all directions draw near to you.
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Rainer Maria Rilke -
We will not be herded into churches, for you are not made by the crowd, you who meet us in our solitude.
We are cradled close in your hands - and lavishly flung forth.
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Something meets us in our solitude. Solitude, so we may be flung together. This together depends on my solitude and your solitude. When we are together, in heart, in space, you and I share two solitudes. How else could we be so close? There, we already are. Love comes out of itself, when I see you, to love. Love is attracted to itself, so moves silently toward itself. Love experiences loss to fill itself again.
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Solitude and single I love people and Cherish aloneness I love myself And miss being held I am celibate And erotic too… Maybe more so for being celibate… ‘how weird!’ Yes, it feels that way sometimes
These are not opposites to me – Alone and with - I love solitude and Cherish people
Not all instruments sound the same Not all birdsong is alike Solitary is not a disease Aloneness, not simply being alone
Few seem to know You can love the world Looking out your window Or sitting in a chair with eyes closed Or praying in the dark of night on your bed And, too, you can go sit beside the road And love everyone who walks by…
Did you know you can love with your eyes?... Or you may want to take your aloneness Into a visit with a friend or stranger
Go deeply into yourself And you will never be apart Either from another or yourself The world will come to your door Saying, “I heard your welcome, may I come in?”
The bud opens while on the stem And shares its scent without discrimination So is one who lives from the heart Amid or apart, does not finally matter
*Brian K. Wilcox, Ferry Beach, Silent Retreat, Maine. 1.19.22.
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Finally, does not matter? That it does not matter does not mean I do not long to see you, miss you. See, I mean with eyes, not just the heart.
Some I long to see, some not. It comes as a gift. Longing belongs; not longing, too. And they are not always two things.
You move through me like blood flows through veins. Could it be I most cherish, for you are far away? Only it finally does not matter? Who says that? And what is far away? Is there such a thing? Does it constantly change? Are you ever at one place?
There is a vast space for breathing in-and-out before and after that. I like you being near.
I know we are a one with two faces, and there is a warmth we can feel when we are far apart - and far apart can mean in a next room or another world - but I like the feel of your hand, the look of your smile, and your tender, warm embrace. Missing you, too, is a gift, a way love loves itself. And you are love, we are love.
the world visits me without a knock on the door yet; yes, yet ...
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(C) brian wilcox, 2025
*Martin Buber. I and Thou. Trans. Walter Kaufmann.
**Rainer Maria Rilke. Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God. Trans. Anita Barrows, Joanna Macy.
