The Old Poet's Waking

The old man's heart woke,

no longer in love with treble and bass,

without weeping or laughter.

In the true bewilderment of soul

he went out beyond any seeking, beyond words

and telling, drowned in the beauty,

drowned beyond deliverance.

Waves cover the old man.

Nothing more can be said of him.

He has shaken out his robe,

and there's nothing in it anymore.

There is a chase where a falcon

dives into the forest

and does not come back up.

Every moment, the sunlight

is totally empty and totally full.

Cry Out

Crying out loud and weeping are great resources.

A nursing mother, all she does

is wait to hear her child.

Just a little beginning whimper

and she's there.

Cry out. Do not be stolid and silent

with your pain. Lament,

and let the milk of loving flow into you.

The hard rain and the wind

are ways the cloud has

to take care of us.

The Most Alive Moment

The most alive moment comes

when those who love each other

meet each other's eyes

and in what flows between them then.

To see your face in a crowd of others,

or alone on a frightening street,

I weep for that.

Our tears improve the earth.

The time you scolded me,

your gratitude, your laughing,

always your qualities increase the soul.

Seeing you is a wine

that does not muddle or numb.

We sit inside the cypress shadow

where amazement and clear thought

twine their slow growth into us.

What Was Said to the Rose

What was said to the rose that made it open

was said to me here in my chest.

What was told the cypress

that made it strong and straight,

what was whispered the jasmine

so it is what it is,

whatever made sugarcane sweet,

whatever was said to the inhabitants

of the town of Chigil in Turkestan

that makes them so handsome,

whatever lets the pomegranate flower

blush like a human face,

that is being said to me now. I blush.

Whatever put eloquence in language,

that's happening here.

The great warehouse doors open,

and I fill with gratitude,

chewing a piece of sugarcane,

in love with the one

to whom every that belongs.

Response to Your Question

Why ask about behavior

when you are soul-essence

and a way of seeing into presence?

Plus you are with us. How could you worry?

You may as well free a few words

from your vocabulary why and how and impossible.

Open the mouth-cage and let those fly away.

We were all born by accident,

but still this wandering caravan

will make camp in perfection.

Forget the nonsense categories

of there and here.

Race and nation and religion.

Starting-point and destination.

You are soul and you are love,

not a sprite or an angel or a human being.

You are a Godman-womanGod-manGod-Godwoman.

No more questions now

as to what it is we are doing here.

The Way You Make Love

The way you make love

is the way God will be with you.

This is Rumi's variation on the golden rule. 

~ Coleman Barks

When Living Itself

If the beloved is everywhere,

the lover is a veil, 

but when living itself becomes

the Friend, lovers disappear.