Tuesday, June 21, 2022

praise the wordless speaker I am

Colourless, nameless, free - 

That's what I am.  


When will I see myself as I am?


Put mystery in the middle.


Where is the middle
in the middle I am?



And this silver-tongued stream in me  - 

when will it grow still enough to know

the streaming stillness I am?


The ocean

I am drowned in the ocean I am - 

shoreless, boundless, wonderful.


Don't look for me in this world or that world.

Both worlds are lost in the world I am - 

My soul, you are my true eyes.

What are eyes in the invisible visible I am?

Then what do I call you?
SILENCE.

words can't name what I am.
Settle in the nowhere everywhere I am.

Gold mine I am.

Rumi

1 comment:

Unknown said...

True silence has become so rare, at least in my daily round. As I sat outside yesterday stitching, I felt that more than any design, or special stitch, the thing I was trying to instill in the cloth was the relative silence, the flowers, the bees...peace. I worry that this is something that whose who are young now will never know. I hope to pass it along to them in the cloth. I am in awe of your beautiful work. Thank you.