Rumi Musings
... explaining love is embarrassing!
Some commentary clarifies, but with love silence is clearer.
A pen went scribbling along, but when it tured to write love, it broke.
You want proof that the sun exists, so you stay up
all night talking about it. Finally you sleep
as the sun comes up.
Look at it! Nothing
is so strange in this entire world as the sun.
The sun of the soul is even more so. It has no yesterday!
* * * * * * * *
There are some mysteries that I'm not telling you.
There's so much doubt everywhere, so many opinions
that say, "What you annouce may be true
in the future, but not now."
But this form of universal truth that I see
says,
This is not a prediction. This is here
in this instanct, cash in hand!
* * * * * * * *
All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.
This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I'll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I'm like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?
Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way.
Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.
This poetry, I never know what I"m going to say.
I don't plan it.
When I'm outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.
We have a huge barrel of wine, but no cups.
That's fine with us. Every morning
we glow and in the evening we glow again.
The say there's not furture for us. They're right.
Which is fine with us.
* * * * * * * *
I suppose I have much more to say with all that's happened in the past couple days ... I am unable to put my thoughts into words that make sense I think. I went to a funeral for a friend. A friend who was my age, in love and engaged, we graduated from high school together. She was a best friend, a daughter, a fiance, a sister, a neice, an aunt ...
An overhwelming amount of people went to her wake last night. A bittersweet high school reunion of sorts. It was depressing and intriguing. It was nice to be around the "old gang" so to speak, even under the circumstances.
It's just bizarre, I am so lost in my world, and I feel selfish. I feel overly-consumed by my own thoughts about her death - normal I suppose.
I am on the brink of changing my whole world. Me who can never make serious decisions and stick to them - I am moving across the country. I don't have the plane ticket yet and nothing is planned. It's a lot of talk. It's terrifying. I'm still lost and don't know what to do with myself, and I need to just do something, but I am so petrified of becoming more lost along the way by making a wrong decision.
My rantings illustrate my complete insecurity in myself to know myself well enough to make a decision. Gross.
"Live life to the fullest," would appear to the be take home message ...
Wherever home is ...
Some commentary clarifies, but with love silence is clearer.
A pen went scribbling along, but when it tured to write love, it broke.
You want proof that the sun exists, so you stay up
all night talking about it. Finally you sleep
as the sun comes up.
Look at it! Nothing
is so strange in this entire world as the sun.
The sun of the soul is even more so. It has no yesterday!
* * * * * * * *
There are some mysteries that I'm not telling you.
There's so much doubt everywhere, so many opinions
that say, "What you annouce may be true
in the future, but not now."
But this form of universal truth that I see
says,
This is not a prediction. This is here
in this instanct, cash in hand!
* * * * * * * *
All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.
This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I'll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I'm like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?
Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way.
Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.
This poetry, I never know what I"m going to say.
I don't plan it.
When I'm outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.
We have a huge barrel of wine, but no cups.
That's fine with us. Every morning
we glow and in the evening we glow again.
The say there's not furture for us. They're right.
Which is fine with us.
* * * * * * * *
I suppose I have much more to say with all that's happened in the past couple days ... I am unable to put my thoughts into words that make sense I think. I went to a funeral for a friend. A friend who was my age, in love and engaged, we graduated from high school together. She was a best friend, a daughter, a fiance, a sister, a neice, an aunt ...
An overhwelming amount of people went to her wake last night. A bittersweet high school reunion of sorts. It was depressing and intriguing. It was nice to be around the "old gang" so to speak, even under the circumstances.
It's just bizarre, I am so lost in my world, and I feel selfish. I feel overly-consumed by my own thoughts about her death - normal I suppose.
I am on the brink of changing my whole world. Me who can never make serious decisions and stick to them - I am moving across the country. I don't have the plane ticket yet and nothing is planned. It's a lot of talk. It's terrifying. I'm still lost and don't know what to do with myself, and I need to just do something, but I am so petrified of becoming more lost along the way by making a wrong decision.
My rantings illustrate my complete insecurity in myself to know myself well enough to make a decision. Gross.
"Live life to the fullest," would appear to the be take home message ...
Wherever home is ...