There is a shimmering excitement in
being sentient and shaped. The

caravan master see his camels lost
in it, nose to tail, as he himself is,

his friend, and the stranger coming
toward them. A gardener watches the

sky break into song, cloud wobbly with
what it is. Bud, thorn, the same.

Wind, water, wandering this essential
state. Fire, ground, gone. That's

how it is with the outside. Form
is ecstatic. Now imagine the inner:

soul, intelligence, the secret worlds!
And don't think the garden loses its

ecstasy in winter. It's quiet, but
the roots down there are riotous.

If someone bumps you in the street,
don't be angry. Everyone careens

about in this surprise. Respond in
kind. Let the knots untie, turbans

be given away. Someone drunk on this
could drink a donkeyload a night.

Believer, unbeliever, cynic, lover,
all combine in the spirit-form we are,

but no one yet is awake like Shams.

Jelaluddin Rumi

Rain

Naked in A Room
Cry Open
Waiting Falls In

Then you wake up

Anonymous Swede, NYE 2005, left as a poem on fridge magnets and sent to Dr Sparks at arcosanti via postcard

Desires come, my wishes and longing.
I am tied up, knot on top of knot.

Then you that untie me come. Enough
talk of being on the "path"! Let

the 'way' itself arrive. You picked up
a handful of earth; I was in that

handful. I can say the difference
between good and bad, but not how I

know your beauty. Mind refuses to
burn with love. Saladin is central,

yet hidden. The quth, the pole of
love, reaches here to this ground.

-rumi