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Persian with Rumi




it takes me to that place, where hope lives

bright light breaking into the top of my thick head, going through my heart and awakening all of the stagnant parts inside me. the flow of my fluids. a slow gentle tornado whirling inside and it's edges tickling my ribs. everything gets more beautiful. i become more graceful. the things i don't like about you are gone. the way a cat feels when he finds the right spot on your leg to rub. the way a bird feels after landing in his own nest. the way i feel full of god. Rumi takes me to that place..... imonthepath



Like Lalla, I dance; my steps are light.

Uplifted, I leave no prints whirling in the garden.

With each step the reassurance, my toe pointed forward, the direction I'm headed.

My minds eye looks up, my chest engulfed with light.

the best wine, fruitful and filling. I'm drunk.



Artist inspired, heavenly brushstrokes, I'm not impressed.
Lyrics flow through the vocal sufi, I'm not impressed.
Drunken dancers majestically singing their motion, I'm not impressed.
The earth asked for this love and recieved oceans and mountains,
I ask for this love and recieve everything there is.
I ask you, is there anything greater than the mountains that cannot come from this love?
I can answer, anything is possible with the love I feel...



Words firmented, twas long before they reached me. When they got here I knew them. A song I remember I just heard in the wind. That breeze carried the lyric forever until I was ready to breathe the air of love, with my sail full, battery charged, running outside, chasing the gust that carries the next tune. That melody fills my lungs, 'tis where it lives. I feel it there. If I'm still, stagnant air. When I hunt, I find worlds full to inhale. The silver lining was the cloud shading me from terrible burn. A storm is coming, I'm excited to see the music it brings.....


When the ride is over, the surfer paddles out for more.

It's the ride which he longs for, is it free?

What you read is my paddling, this is how I get there.

Some don't know there is even a place to go, more paddling for me.

Look to a tree, paddle, look inside me, paddle.

The wave I'm swimming toward is everything, everywhere.

The distance I swim is over oceans of worldly water, poured by me, hardly potable.

I swim to the clean water and fill myself,I bring empty bottles.

The distance shortens, that is the fruit of my labors... rich



Shells at the shore await the tide, and how sure they are it will come. The beach knows with every grain their rinsing waves shall roll in, they mind not the debris, confident on it's departure. Ebb and flow as sure as Shams. In comes the set of waves, awareness, next knowledge, all the while an undertow carries away old ideas, releases worldy self and clears the way for the ocean to continue.




© Richard


Last updated: May 9, 2004