Sunday, February 22, 2009
The past is a cradle, weeping in the dark.
Burning hairdryer and hints of an un-washable stain.
When a hamper is put under duress, it is better to just smile and wait. The stressor is soon to see the truth, bear no worry on that.
A squire may study, though that makes not his wisdom. He must first face the pain he has begun to adhere to. Only then is he to be able to see the brilliance of the dark red blood.
Soon the past will become the future and we will not forget it.
Friday, February 20, 2009
A petty tyrant is looking at his unpaid bills with an obvious look of disdain. His cook serves him stale bread and tainted meat in a fever of panic, as she feels a ghost cross her path. It is January and the frozen lake outside the window holds skating children. Across the street is a church, inside of which a rabbi dances in a white silk coat, oblivious to the world around him. Behind the church, in the alley, a fool shouts, "I am the World!" In an open window above him is a face, belonging to a man who realizes that the fool is not such a fool after all.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
You say, "There is a method to the madness."
I say, "My method is madness."
You say, "For the sake of sanity!"
I say, "Let go of it. It'll drag you down."
Death knocks at your door.
You run for your life.
Death knocks at my door.
I invite him in for tea.
I suppose that we are different,
I've loved you and I'll love you evermore.
And though snowmen melt in the hot sun,
It is only when they're sane.
...And not made of packing material.
This is for all those who contemplate suicide.
This is all for those close to Death.
This is in honor and memory of the only Rumi.
I will be with you in the grave,
on the night you leave behind
your shop and your family.
When you hear my soft voice
echoing in your tomb,
you will realise
that you were never hidden from my eyes.
I am the pure awareness within your heart,
with you during joy and celebration,
suffering and despair.
One that strange and fateful night
you will hear a familiar voice--
you'll be rescued from the fangs of snakes
and the searing sting of scorpions.
The euphoria of love will sweep over your grave;
it will bring wine and friends, candles and food.
When the light of realization dawns,
shouting and upheaval
will rise from the graves!
The dust of ages will be stirred
by the cries of ecstasy,
by the banging of drums,
by the clamor of revolt!
Dead bodies will tear off their shrouds
and stuff their ears in fright--
What use are the senses and the ears
before the blast of that Trumpet?
Look and you will see my form
whether you are looking at yourself
or toward the noise and confusion.
Don't be blurry-eyed,
See me clearly--
See my beauty without the old eyes of delusion.
Don't mistake me for this human form.
The soul is not obscured by forms.
Even if it were wrapped in a hundred folds of felt
the rays of the soul's light
would still shine through.
Beat the drum,
Follow the minstrels of the city.
It's a day of renewal
when every young man
walks boldly on the path of love.
Had everyone sought God
Instead of crumbs and copper coins
They would not be sitting at the edge of the moat
in darkness and regret.
What kind of gossip house
have you opened in our city?
Close your lips
and shine on the world
like loving sunlight.
Shine like the Sun of Tabriz rising in the East.
Shine like the star of victory.
Shine like the whole universe is yours!"