Said it until I'm blue, yet every time it sinks in a bit differently: my hope can be in God alone. A poem seraphimsigrist shared in his journal touched this part of my heart, once and freshly broken:
I am the bird that knocks at your window in the morning
and your companion, whom you cannot know,
the blossoms that light up for the blind.
I am the glacier’s crest above the forests, the dazzling one
and the brass voices from cathedral towers.
The thought that suddenly comes over you at midday
and fills you with a singular happiness.
I am one you have loved long ago.
I walk alongside you by day and look intently at you
and put my mouth on your heart
but you don’t know it.
I am your third arm and your second
shadow, the white one,
whom you don’t have the heart for
and who cannot ever forget you.
—Rolf Jacobsen, from North in the World (translated by Roger Greenwald)