The moon has become a dancer
at this festival of love.
This dance of light,

This sacred blessing,
This divine love,
beckons us
to a world beyond
only lovers can see
with their eyes of fiery passion.

They are the chosen ones
who have surrendered.
Once they were particles of light
now they are the radiant sun.

They have left behind
the world of deceitful games.
They are the privileged lovers
who create a new world
with their eyes of fiery passion.

~Rumi

These are the little songs
The wild sea children sang,
When the first gold arch of light
From rim to zenith sprang;

When all the glad clean joys
Of being came to birth,
Out of the darkling womb
Of the morning of the earth.

And these are the lyric songs
The earthborn children sing,
When wild-wood laughter throngs
The shy bird-throats of spring;

And these are the innocent songs
The forest children sing,
When the whippoorwill's unrest
Is a pulse in the heart of spring;

These are the happy songs
The first sea children made,
When red morning roused them
In the deep forest shade;

Then Hillborn said to Seaborn
"Sweetheart, but thou art fair!"
And the shinning silver sea-mist
Made moonstones in her hair

When, blossom by wind-blown blossom,
Their virginal zones undone,
The world was a wide sunflower
Turning her face to the sun.

O Love,
O pure deep Love,
be here, be now,
Be all

– worlds dissolve
into your stainless endless radiance,
Frail living leaves burn
with your brighter than cold stares –

Make me your servant,

your breath,

your core.

~Rumi