There was a poet called Rumi,
and if you ever feel gloomy,
you could print off his words,
then stick them on your wallpaper,
to paper over the cracks.

The cracks in your vision that lead to revision,
in a cornea and iris so withered,
that your twisted oases and desire for sirens
split like light beams through diamonds,
then converge like perpendicular streams
and dreams that fray,
yet somehow agree
on what their colour should be.

Like the cut of salted cashews
on a tongue drenched,
with the sin and views
of a glass of gin.

Like a burst of sunlight
on the pulpits and carpets,
occupied by a nun
that wants to shine and fly.

I wish that hope was a noun
but it’s a verb,
and to do implies contrast,
between what you can and what you can’t
between what you see and what you believe.

Rumi said
“Life is a balance of holding on and letting go”
But I say
“How can a man so heavy know what you mean?”


  • Goldfinch60

    I have read much of Rumi's work and to me his words make so much sense.


  • L. B. Mek

    a brilliant dedication
    reminiscent of the Guru's own mastery
    where 'In the waters of Purity'
    he too, so eloquently exemplifying
    the universality
    in our shared lack of belief (at times)
    without, that tangible merit of proof
    which itself, changes shades of truth
    with the clarity of wisdom we've accumulated
    or the angle of the Sun, we choose to Feel
    on any give day...
    ('in the waters of purity' by Jalaluddin Rumi )

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