Rumi ( 1207-1273)
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
There is a field. I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
The world id too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
Doesn’t make any sense.
Lo, I am with you always, mean when you look for God,
God is in the look of your eyes,
In the thought of looking, nearer to you than your self,
or things that have happened to you.
There’s no need to go outside.
Be melting snow,
Wash yourself of yourself.
You are the notes, and we are the flute,
We are the mountain, you are the sounds coming down.
We are the pawns and kings and rooks
You set out on the board; we win and we lose.
We are lions rolling and unrolling on flags.
Your invisible wind carries us through the world.
When it’s cold and raining,
You are more beautiful.
And the snow brings me
even closer to Your Lips.
The Inner Secret, that which was never born,
You are That Freshness, and I am with You now.
I can’t explain the goings,
Or the comings. You enter suddenly,
And I am nowhere again.
Inside the Majesty.