rumi

The ecstatic beauty and soulful grace of Rumi__ poetry inspires human hearts to believe in possibilities beyond the predictably fatal.

Late, by myself, in the boat of myself,no light and no land anywhere,cloudcover thick. I try to stayjust above the surface, yet I'm already underand living within the ocean.

When someone beats a rug,the blows are not against the rug, but against the dust in it.

Spirit is a child, the tune of dancing feet its lullaby.

...anyone looking for friends without faults shall remain friendless. The choice is yours.

Imagination blocks you like a bolt on a door. Burn that bar. (Rumi)

The point is to turn your grief into love. The roses are helping you find grace.

If you want special illumination, look upon the human face:See clearly within laughter the Essence of Ultimate Truth.

...purification was the point of such pain.

If you can love all who've betrayed you... you can taste sweetness in everything.

...lose your mind so that you can gain a new way of knowing.

Everything that has ever been beautiful has been burned. Like you.

....life is the work of the spirit trying to have a human experience.

It is warmer here. Can you see the light? Trust it. It is safe. It has lived a long time. It has seen much more than you. You fight a demon that you once knew but the demon is already slain. And from the corner of your eye you will see the scattered, sacred fire reform again. Settle, settle. Peace, peace

I keepholding upthe mirror of the sun,so you can see the stunningreflections of everythingyou__e becom-ing.

You can'tstop dreamingjust becausethe night neverseems toend.

Notice how each particle moves.Notice how everyone has just arrived here from a journey.Notice how each wants a different food.Notice how the stars vanish as the sun comes up, and how all streams stream toward the ocean.Look at the chefs preparing special plates for everyone, according to what they need.Look at this cup that can hold the ocean.Look at those who see the face.Look through Shams_ eyes into the Water that is entirely jewels.

A craftsman pulled a reed from the reedbed,cut holes in it, and called it a human being.Since then, it's been wailing a tender agonyof parting, never mentioning the skillthat gave it life as a flute