By Saladin's shop suddenly
I hear the music of gold
being hammered, gold and God.
As gold thins out,
the presence becomes a sheer
goldleaf light
on this goldbeater's face,
in his eyes as he works.
As the love-secret of Jacob
becomes Joseph's smile,
as lovers leave what keeps them confined,
as Job's patience dissolves to nothing,
you are the Friend
coming toward this touching.
You are the soul.
Be that, and when you hear yourself
in some hypocrisy,
cut free. Quickly, cut.
*This poem records the moment in Konya when Rumi heard an inner music in the goldbeater's hammering coming from his friend Saladin's shop. The legend is that he began spontaneously turning in the street in response to the music of existence.
