Strange to be Dead

Of course, it is strange to inhabit the earth no longer,

to no longer use skills one had barely time to acquire;

not to observe roses and other things that promised

so much in terms of a human future, no longer

to be what one was in infinitely anxious hands;

to even discard one’s own name as easily as a child abandons a broken toy.

Strange, not to desire to continue wishing one’s wishes.

Strange to notice all that was related, fluttering so loosely in space. And being dead is hard work and full of retrieving before one can gradually feel a trace of eternity.

Rilke, from the First Elegy