Saturday, June 18, 2011


by Rumi

This is now. Now is. 
Don’t postpone till then. 
Spend the spark of iron on stone. 

Sit at the head of the table.

Dip your spoon in the bowl. 
Seat yourself next to your joy 
and have your awakened soul
pour wine. 

Branches in the spring wind,
easy dance of jasmine and cypress. 

Cloth for green robes has been cut from pure absence. 

You’re the tailor, 
settled among his shop goods, 
quietly sewing.

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