RUMI DAYS

Do you hear what the violin says about longing? The same as the stick. I was once a green branch in the wind. We are all far from home. La...

I was happy enough to stay still inside the pearl inside the shell, but the hurricane of experience lashed me out of hiding and made me a ...

There is a way of passing away from the personal, a dying that makes one plural, no longer single. A gnat lights in the buttermilk to beco...

You that come to birth and bring the mysteries, your voice-thunder makes us very happy. Float, lion of the heart, and tear me open.

 Pierre Puvis de Chavanne, Young Girls by the Seaside (Jeunes filles au bord de la mer) Are you jealous of the ocean's generosity? Wh...

We search this world for the great untying of what was wed to us at birth and gets undone at dying. We sleep beside a stream, thirsty. Cur...

Which is worth more, a crowd of thousands, or your own genuine solitude? Freedom, or power over an entire nation? A little while alone in ...