Poetry 🪷

It is said that before entering the sea

a river trembles with fear.

She looks back at the path she has traveled,

from the peaks of the mountains,

the long winding road crossing forests and villages.

And in front of her,

she sees an ocean so vast,

that to enter

there seems nothing more than to disappear forever.

But there is no other way.

The river can not go... See more

Douglas Harding • Don't Side With Yourself

There is a candle in your heart, ready to be kindled. There is a void in your soul, ready to be filled. You feel it, don’t you? You feel the separation from the Beloved ... ~ Rumi

Patricia Albere • Evolutionary Relationships: Unleashing the Power of Mutual Awakening

A Garden Beyond Paradise

by Rumi

Everything you see has its roots

in the unseen world.

The forms may change,

yet the essence remains the same.

Every wondrous sight will vanish,

every sweet word will fade.

But do not be disheartened,

The Source they come from is eternal--

growing, branching out,

giving new life and new joy.

Why do you weep?--

That Source is wit... See more

A Garden Beyond Paradise, by Rumi

May the Source be with you.
— August Aalstad

he Source

Source

Alas my Muslim friends

I do not know myself

I am not Christian

I am not Jewish

I am not Zoroastrian

I am not Muslim either

am not of the earth

I am not of the wind

I am not of the water

I am not of the fire

I have seen both worlds

And call them one

My place is the placeless

A trace of traceless

I am not the body

I am not the mind

I am the source of... See more

The Source - Rumi With A View

“You wake the dead to life” by Rumi (Translated by Haleh Liza Gafori)

“You wake the dead to life,

you fountain of grace,

you fire in thickets of tangled thought.

“Today you arrived beaming with laughter—

that swinging key that unlocks prison doors.

“You are hope’s beating heart.

You are a doorway to the sun.

You are the one I seek and the one who seeks me.

... See more

Rumi — You wake the dead to life

In Death I rest and am at peace;

In life I toiled and strove.

Is the hardness of the winter stream

Better than the melting of spring?

All pride that the body knew,

Was it not lighter than Dust?

Death has hidden me

In the Eternal Tao,

Where neither leopard nor tiger can harm me,

Lance prick me nor sword wound me . . .

Of the Primal Spirit

Birds fly Home together.

Within these things

There is a hint of Truth,

But if I try to tell it,

I cannot find the Words.