Rumi’s poems were a lot of fun! I say were because I finished the stock of 90 poems earlier this morning. I might pick up something short term to read between now and Sunday or watch some mindless TV. We’ll see, but in the mean time here is a gem.
THE CREATION WORD
Three days now it has been like this.
I dip my pitcher in the fountain.
It fills with blood.
The rose garden is all desert
thorns and stone.
I chant spells to lure the genii back
into the bottle. Nothing happens.
A beloved’s frown destroys the lover.
Come back. Brighten my eye,
even if I do not deserve it.
My loving asks, What have I done?
A voice replies, Do not look to yourself.
The cause is beyond every here and now.
The life gift is given
and then taken away.
It is not for us to know why, or how.
Grace comes with the creation word, Be.
That gate opens without hesitating.
Between the push of buh
and the smooth launch of ee,
there is an infinite moment
when everything happens.
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