O my soul, they found a way to make sugar out of sugarcane.
They learned how to weave silk from the matter of mulberry leaves.
Be patient.
Bitter grapes become halva with time.
*halva Sweetmeats.
Rubailer (2016), Rubai #2, page 157.
O my soul, they found a way to make sugar out of sugarcane.
They learned how to weave silk from the matter of mulberry leaves.
Be patient.
Bitter grapes become halva with time.
*halva Sweetmeats.
Rubailer (2016), Rubai #2, page 157.
Come soon, so we can throw off the mantle of our body
and, in that moment, demolish and flatten the house of our existence. Continue reading “The Soul Keeps Flying (3/22/2020)”
Fate is not a slave
to our opinions, our thinking, our petty desires.
Existence is a means to reach Absence.
Our nanny is behind the curtain.
In fact, we are not here. What you see is merely our shadow.
Rubailer (2016), Page 130, Rubai #3.
Just now, ruby-colored tears have started seeping from my eyes.
A sign has appeared from Love, yet a trace of Love’s dust never appears. Continue reading “A Sign Has Appeared from Love (3/8/2020)”
I am a mountain. I am echoing the Beloved.
I am a painting. That Beauty is my painter.
Do you think all these words I say belong to me?
No. They are the sound of the key turning in the lock.
Rubailer (2016), Rubai #1, page 128.