A nightingale flies nearer the roses.
A girl blushes. Pomegranates ripen.
Hallaj will be executed.
A man walks a mountain path, solitary
and full of prayer.
Narcissus at the edge, creekwater washing
tree roots. God is giving
a general introductory lecture.
We hear and read it everywhere,
in the field, through the branches.
We will never finish studying.
Neither of us has a penny,
yet we are walking the jeweler's bazaar
seriously considering making a purchase.
Or shall I say this with other metaphors?
A barn crowded with souls.
Quietness served around a table.
Two people talk along a road
that's paved with words.
2 comments:
Rumi's 'road paved with words' sounds to me like the blogosphere. Thanks, Ruth.
oh, I so agree with Elisabeth.
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