My eyes already touch the sunny hill.
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has inner light, even from a distance-
and charges 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.
Source: The Book of Hourse
Contributed by: Beansprout