A God Can Do It
- May 21
- 2 min read
A God Can Do It
I mentioned the conscious poet Rilke earlier. I want to add this poem, one of his Sonnets to Orpheus. It contains, in a few verses, almost everything I have written about in the previous pages. Rilke often speaks about gods and angels in his works—we can see them as both external entities and as higher states within ourselves. The precision with which this poet writes of spiritual things is remarkable. Where logical discourse stops, powerless to describe, Rilke's poetic words almost touch reality.
This sonnet defines the boundary between God and man, between the desolate condition of finding oneself inhabiting a machine struggling to rise and the free flow of a higher state. (But it is precisely the possibility of resolving this contradiction that characterizes a human being.)
Orpheus, God of music, is the entity to whom Rilke, who here represents man with his limitations, is speaking. With his lyre, Orpheus is able to enchant and perform miracles. Apollo is the god who expresses himself through rational order and moderation. He, too, is associated with the lyre, as well with the solar disk.
A word of advice: read it aloud, very slowly.
A god can do it. But how, tell me, shall
a man follow him through the narrow lyre?
His mind is cleavage. At the crossing of two
heartways stands no temple for Apollo.
Song, as you teach it, is not desire,
Not suing for something yet in the end attained;
Song is existence. Easy for the god.
But when do we exist? And when does he
spend the earth and stars upon our being?
Youth, this is not it, your loving, even
if then your voice thrusts your mouth open,—learn
to forget your sudden song. That will run out.
Real singing is a different breath.
A breath for nothing. A wafting in the god. A wind.
From our friend Sergio Antonio, Milan, Italy Center. This selection from his book, A Question of Presence, is available from Amazon:
Orpheus Surrounded by Animals, Roman Mosaic, Museo Archeologico Regionale di Palermo
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