Inside this new love, die.
Your way begins on the other side.
Become the sky.
Take an axe to the prison wall.
Escape.
Walk out like someone suddenly born into color.
Do it now.
You are covered with thick cloud.
Slide out the side. Die,
and be quiet. Quietness is the surest sign
that you have died.
Your old life was a frantic running
from silence.
The speechless full moon
comes out now.
2 comments:
This time I must comment. About that gorgeous moon. About how I cannot go to bed without reading these Rumi posts; he is such a comfort. I shall run from quietness no more. Thank you.
Yes dying of the ego to what Is. The silence, oh the silence. Sometimes I slip there effortlessly and other times my mind will not stop it's incessant nattering on worthless hyperbola.
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