remembering

And you wait. You wait for the one thing

that will change your life,

make it more than it is –

something wonderful, exceptional,

stones awakening, depths opening to you.

In the dusky bookstalls

old books glimmer gold and brown.

You think of lands you journeyed through,

of paintings and a dress once worn

by a woman you never found again.

And suddenly you know: that was enough.

You rise and there appears before you

in all its longings and hesitations

the shape of what you lived.

R.M. Rilke, Remembering, Book of Images

This, read whilst listening to Alexis Ffrench the other morning. 
We three make good bedfellows.