Prison of Mind

His gaze, from staring through the bars,
Has grown so weary that it can take in
Nothing more. For him it is as though there were
A thousand bars, and behind the bars, no world.

As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
The movement of his powerful strides is
Like a ritual dance around a center,
Where a great will stands paralysed.

Only at times, the curtains of the eye
Lift, without a sound. A shape enters,
Slips through the tightened silence of the shoulders,
Plunges into the heart, and dies.

- The Panther, Rainer Maria Rilke