Each thing — each stone, blossom, child— is held in place.
Only we, in our arrogance, push out beyond what we each belong to
for some empty freedom.

If we surrendered to earth’s intelligence
we could rise up rooted, like trees.

Instead we entangle ourselves
in knots of our own making and struggle, lonely and confused.

So, like children, we begin again
to learn from the things,
because they are in God’s heart;
they have never left him.

This is what the things can teach us:
to fall, patiently to trust our heaviness.
Even a bird has to do that
before he can fly.

 Rilke,  The Book of Hours