Poems & Thoughts - For the Soul!

Each of us has a secret companion musician to dance to. Unique rhythmic play, a motion in the street we alone know and hear. A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems. If you forget everything else and not this, there's nothing to worry about, but if you remember everything else and forget this, then you will have done nothing in your life.

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It's as if a king has sent you to some country to do a task, and you perform a hundred other services, but not the one he sent you to do. So human being come to this world to do particular work. That work is the purpose, and each is specific to the person. If you don't do it, it's as though a priceless Indian sword were used to slice rotten meat.

It's a golden bowl being used to cook turnips, when one filing from the bowl could buy a hundred suitable pots. It's like a knife of the finest tempering nailed into a wall to hang things on. You say, "But look, I'm using the dagger. It's not lying idle. For a penny an iron nail could be bought to serve for that. You say, "But I spend my energies on lofty enterprises. I study jurisprudence and philosophy and logic and astronomy and medicine and the rest.

They are all branches of yourself. Remember the deep root of your being, the presence of your lord.

Give yourself to the one who already owns your breath and your moments. If you don't, you will be like the man who takes a precious dagger and hammers it into his kitchen wall for a peg to hold his dipper gourd. You'll be wasting valuable keenness and forgetting your dignity and purpose. Don't say, He's gone! Death has nothing to do with going away. The sun sets and the moon sets, but they're not gone. Death is a coming together. The tomb looks like a prison, but it's really release into union. The human seed goes down in the ground like a bucket into the well where Joseph is.

It grows and comes up full of some unimagined beauty. Your mouth closes here, and immediately opens with a shout of joy there. There's a bankruptcy that's pure gain.

Souls Quotes

The moon stays bright when it doesn't avoid the night. A rose's rarest essence lives in the thorn. Every guest agrees to stay three days, no more. Master, you told me to remind you. No one knows what comes over me when I and that messenger speak! At the end of my life, with just one breath left, if you come then, I'll sit up and sing. Only as I'm being carried out and down the road, as the folds of my shroud open in the wind, will anyone be able to read, as on the petal-pages of a turning bud, what passed through us last night.

I have felt nothing ever like the wild wonder of that moment. Longing is the core of mystery. Longing itself brings the cure. The only rule is, Suffer the pain. Your desire must be disciplined, and what you want to happen in time, sacrificed. There is only God.

Talking is often a torment for me, and I need many days of silence to recover from the futility of words. I extend one hand up, and with the other I touch the ground. A great branch leans down from the sky. How long will I keep talking of up and down? This is not my home: I go back where everything is nothing. The purpose of every gathering is discovered: Men and women turn their faces to the wall in grief.

Then they start eating the fire of pleasure, as camels chew pungent grass for the sake of their souls. Winter blocks the road. Flowers are taken prisoner underground. Then green justice tenders a spear. Go outside to the orchard. These visitors came a long way, past all the houses of the zodiac, learning Something new at each stop. Bowls of food are brought out as answers, but still no one knows the answer. Food for the soul stays secret. Body food gets put out in the open like us. Because the beloved wants to know, unseen things become manifest.

Hiding is the hidden purpose of creation: After you die, All the thoughts you had will throng around like children.

Food for soul: Thought-provoking quotes and poems

The heart is the secret inside the secret. Call the secret language, and never be sure what you conceal. Climbing cypress, opening rose, Nightingale song, fruit, these are inside the chill November wind. They are its secret. We climb and fall so often. Plants have an inner Being, and separate ways of talking and feeling. An ear of corn bends in thought. Pink rose deciding to open a competing store. A bunch of grapes sits with its feet stuck out. Narcissus gossiping about iris. Willow, what do you learn from running water?

Red apple, what has the Friend taught you? Peach tree, why so low? To let you reach. Look at the poplar, tall but without fruit or flower. I gave up self to watch the enlightened ones. Pomegranate questions quince, Why so pale? For the pearl you hid inside me. How did you discover my secret? The core of the seen and unseen universes smiles, but remember, smiles come best from those who weep. Lightning, then the rain-laughter.

Dark earth receives that clear and grows a trunk. Melon and cucumber come dragging along on pilgrimage. You have to be to be blessed! Pumpkin begins climbing a rope! Where did he learn that? Grass, thorns, a hundred thousand ants and snakes, everything is looking for food. Every herb cures some illness. Camels delight to eat thorns.

We prefer the inside of a walnut, not the shell. The inside of an egg, the outside of a date. What about your inside and outside? The same way a branch draws water up many feet, God is pulling your soul along. Wind carries pollen from blossom to ground. Wings and Arabian stallions gallop toward the warmth of spring. They visit; they sing and tell what they think they know: The hoopoe carries a letter to Solomon. The wise stork says lek-lek. Be your own watchman as birds are. Let the remembering beads encircle you. I make promises to myself and break them. Now consider the sun.

Only the soul knows what love is. This moment in time and space is an eggshell with an embryo crumpled inside, soaked in belief-yolk, under the wing of grace, until it breaks free of mind to become the song of an actual bird, and God. What was told the cypress that made it strong and straight, what was whispered the jasmine so it is what it is, whatever made sugarcane sweet, whatever was said to the inhabitants of the town of Chigil in Turkestan that makes them so handsome, whatever lets the pomegranate flower blush like a human face, that is being said to me now.

Whatever put eloquence in language, that's happening here. The great warehouse doors open; I fill with gratitude, chewing a piece of sugarcane, in love with the one to whom every that belongs!

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This world is drenched with that drowning. Rumi tells her to come back in two weeks. She does, and he tells her again to come in two weeks. She does, and he advises the child to cut down on sweets. Then I tried again and was successful. Only now can I tell him to try not to have so much. Se can tie knots in your chest that only God's breathing loosens. Don't take her appeal lightly. Anything done to excess becomes boring, except this overflow that moves toward you.

You want to know the meaning of phenomenal duration, so you can teach others and help their souls unfold. Anyone who asks this question has some of the answer. Sow seed corn, Moses, and you will experience the purpose of taking a form. Moses plants and tends the crop; when the ears have ripened to the shape of their beauty, he brings out to the field his blade and sharpening stone. The unseen voice comes, Why did you work to bring the corn to perfection only now to chop it down?

They must be stored in different cribs in the barn.

So creation has a purpose. God has said, I was a hidden treasure, and I desired to be known. That desire is part of manifestation. I am lost in that other. It's sweet not to look at two worlds, to melt in meaning as honey melts in milk. No one tires of following the soul. I don't recall now what happens on the manifest plane. I stroll with those I have always wanted to know, fresh and graceful as a water lily, or a rose. The body is a boat; I am waves swaying against it.

Whenever it anchors somewhere, I smash it loose, or smash it to pieces. If I get lazy and cold, flames come from my ocean and surround me. I laugh inside them like gold purifying itself. A certain melody makes the snake put his head down on a line in the dirt Here is my head, brother: Weary of form, I come into qualities. Each says, "I am a blue-green sea. If you do nothing, you lose.

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