Sublime
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“The Guest House,” by Jalaluddin Rumi
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be... See more
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be... See more
Superhuman
In celebrations, I laugh with those laughing
And in sadness, I cry with those grieving
The divine secrets are not separate from my cries
But only those who are cooked in the fire of love will hear them
These secrets are for the heart, not for eyes or ears
It is fire, not wind that makes me sing!
If you don’t have this fire,
you might as well be dead
Oh,... See more
And in sadness, I cry with those grieving
The divine secrets are not separate from my cries
But only those who are cooked in the fire of love will hear them
These secrets are for the heart, not for eyes or ears
It is fire, not wind that makes me sing!
If you don’t have this fire,
you might as well be dead
Oh,... See more
Rumi Poem: The Song of the Reed - Rumi With A View
