One Swaying Being

Love is not condescending, never that,

nor books, nor any marking on paper,

nor what people say of each other.

Love is a tree

with branches reaching into eternity

and roots set deep in eternity,

and no trunk.

Have you seen it? The mind cannot.

Your desiring cannot.

The longing you feel for this love

comes from inside you.

When you become the Friend,

your longing will be as the man in the ocean

who holds to a piece of wood.

Eventually, wood, man, and ocean

become one swaying being,

Shams Tabriz, the secret of God.

Majesty and Helplessness

Torn wall covering, found here

Always check your inner state

with the lord of your heart.

Copper does not know it's copper,

until it is changing into gold.

Your loving does not know its majesty,

until it knows its helplessness.

Descend into the Pith

Would you like to have revealed to you

the truth of the Friend?

Leave the rind,

and descend into the pith.

Fold within fold, the beloved

drowns in his own being. This world

is drenched with that drowning.

A Voice through the Door

Sometimes you hear a voice through the door

calling you, as fish out of water

hear the waves, or a hunting falcon

hears the drum's Come back. Come back.

This turning toward what you deeply love

saves you. Read the book of your life,

which has been given you.

A voice comes to your soul saying,

Lift your foot. Cross over.

Move into emptiness

of question and answer and question.

Listening (2)

Lisa Trehot, by Auguste Renoir

Listen, and feel the beauty of your separation,

the unsayable absence.

There is a moon inside every human being.

Learn to be companions with it.

Give more of your life to this listening.

As brightness is to time,

so you are to the one who talks

to the deep ear in your chest.

I should sell my tongue and buy a thousand ears

when that one steps near and begins to speak.

Listening (1)

What is the deep listening?

Sama is a greeting from the secret ones

inside the heart, a letter.

The branches of your intelligence

grow new leaves in the wind of this listening.

The body reaches a peace.

Rooster sound comes,

reminding you of your love for dawn.

The reed flute and the singer's lips.

The knack of how spirit breathes into us

becomes as simple and ordinary

as eating and drinking.

The dead rise with the pleasure of listening.

If someone cannot hear a trumpet melody,

sprinkle dirt on him and declare him dead.

Your Face

You may be planning departure,

as a human soul leaves the world

taking almost all its sweetness with it.

You saddle your horse. You must be going.

Remember that you have friends here

as faithful as the grass and the sky.

Have I failed you? Possibly you are angry.

But remember our nights of conversation,

the well work, yellow roses by the ocean,

the longing, the archangel Gabriel

saying, So be it.

Shams Tabriz, your face

is what every religion tries to remember.