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Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Poetry: Rumi.

Words of Rumi.

Oh soul, you worry too much.
You have seen your own strength.
You have seen your own beauty.
You have seen your golden wings.
Of anything less, why do you worry?
You are in truth the soul, of the soul, of the soul.


If you are irritated by every rub, how will your mirror be polished?


Ignore those that make you fearful and sad, that degrade you back towards disease and death.


The wound is the place where the Light enters you.


But listen to me. For one moment
quit being sad. Hear blessings
dropping their blossoms
around you.


Suffering is a gift. In it is hidden mercy.


Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.

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