can't see the path or any distance

.

It feels as though I make my way 

through massive rock

like a vain of ore

alone, encased.

I am so deep inside it

I can't see the path or any distance:

everything us close

and everything closing in on me

has turned to stone.

Since I still don't know enough about pain,

this terrible darkness makes me small.

If it's you, though -

press down hard on me, break in

that I may know the weight of your hand,

and you, the fullness of my cry.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

The Book of Poverty and Death III,1
translated by Joanna Macy and Anita Barrows
(See interview with Joanna Macy)