And everyone who searches
finds – maybe not
the missing button, maybe
an old note, yellowed photo
with a missing corner.
And you realize
what you find is
good enough,
or better
And the cardigan can
do without mending –
its gapping filled
for now with a memory
of summertime,
or last year’s loss
– you never lost at all.
It was hiding under the bed,
stirred awake,
an answer. The question
never mattered.
———
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” – Rilke
