One of the marvels of the world
is the sight of a soul sitting in prison
with the key in its hand.
Covered with dust,
with a cleansing waterfall an inch away.
A young man rolls from side to side,
though the bed is comfortable
and a pillow holds his head.
He has a living master, yet he wants more,
and there is more.
If a prisoner had not lived outside,
he would not detest the dungeon.
Desiring knows there is a satisfaction
beyond this. Straying maps the path.
A secret freedom opens
through a crevice you can barely see.
The awareness a wine drinker wants
cannot be tasted in wine, but that failure
brings his deep thirst closer.
3 comments:
very cool daily's
poetry with prophetic ring
a secret freedom...---love this line....
Rumi's poem speaks to me of a deep buried memeory of who I am, that draws me ever nearer and will present itself in moments of stillness to make me want it more.
My jailer stands outside the open door with no power to confine me-this I do myself-what am I so afraid of?
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