then YOU must :)

She could hear
whispers
Inside her heart.

She knew she had to
Sing her song.

She knew it was time…

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…whirling

“Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment…” ~Rumi

the stars whirl in joy

drunk in awe, wonder they breathe

magical whispers

Like Literature

Ebbing and Flowing

Suspended in a moment

Of Timelessness and Nothingness,

Of Eternity and Joy,

I find Love.

Crests of waves

Ebbing and flowing

Inside me.

Perfume of paper and magic!

An idea comes to me

With the pulsing of

A little heart beat.

It comes bouncing

In my little neck vein,

Effusing Light

In my soul.

Let soul speak

Love comes with a knife, not some shy question,

and not with fears for its reputation.

I say these things disinterestedly.

Accept them in kind.

Love is a madman, working his wild schemes,

tearing off his clothes, running through the mountains,

drinking poison, and now quietly choosing annihilation.

A tiny spider tries to wrap an enormous wasp.

Think of the spiderweb

woven across the cave where Muhammad slept.

There are love stories,

and there is obliteration into love.

You have been walking the ocean’s edge,

holding up your robes to keep them dry.

You must dive naked under and deeper under,

a thousand times deeper. Love flows down.

The ground submits to the sky and suffers what comes.

Tell me, is the earth worse for giving in like that?

Do not put blankets over the drum.

Open completely.

Let your spirit listen

to the green dome’s passionate murmur.

Let the cords of your robe be untied.

Shiver in this new love beyond all above and below.

The sun rises, but which way does the night go?

I have no more words.

Let the soul speak with the silent articulation of a face.

She has flowers in her hair

“She has flowers in her hair
orchid blossoms and oleander
She speaks softly to the moon
her words ancient and beautiful and
Forbidding:
Ophelia! Ophelia!
the tides: she calls her own
her tears are tiny songs,
lamentations that fall from her eyes;
memories that the earth drinks up.”

— Night