Interesting, I think Sgt X might have shared this with Seymour,
What will you do, God, When I die?
When I, your pitcher, broken, lie?
When I, your drink, go stale or dry?
I am your garb, the trade you ply,
you lose your meaning, losing me.
Homeless without me, you will be
robbed of your welcome, warm and sweet.
I am your sandals: your tired feet
will wander bare for want of me. ...
Book of Hours
Rainer Maria Rilke
Daniel
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Received on Fri Jan 10 10:13:45 2003
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