In quiet rooms where shadows dance,
Rilke found his silent trance.
Words like whispers filled the air,
Crafting worlds beyond compare.

With pen in hand, he sought the light,
In solitude, he took his flight.
The universe within his gaze,
Unfolded in poetic phrase.

Through tangled thoughts and dreams unfurled,
He wandered through an unseen world.
The heart’s own symphony he sought,
In every line and verse he wrought.

In fleeting moments, time stood still,
As Rilke climbed each thoughtful hill.
His life, a tapestry of grace,
A dance through time, a tender space.