Again it happens in my sleep.
A core of wakefulness opens.
But I have ways of ignoring that.
You say, How long will you beg from others,
when there are things born of you
that emperors want?
Why waste time in meanness?
Who else can say what you say to me?
If I could repeat it, people passing by
would be enlightened and go free.
You are an ocean in my chest
where everyone changes places,
believer-unbeliever, cynic-lover,
dervish-king.
Last night you came to my sleep
asking, How are you?
Locked out of life, waiting, weeping.
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At the request of a Rumi Reader, I have enabled comments, because I agree that someone, sometime might want to write about the power of Rumi's words. So many times they have met me in ways I just have to share, and so I want you to have that opportunity here. There is no expectation for comments, but please do write something if you feel the urge. ~ Ruth