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Rumi
Good evening, my dear readers.
Perhaps today I won’t be discussing any particular topic. I won’t try to make you laugh or leave you astonished. Instead, I’ll offer you a quiet pause — a moment without noise.
May God’s peace be upon you all,
with these words.
Listen to the Song of the Reed
Listen to the story of the reed
and the sorrow it carries from separation.
Since they cut me from the reed bed,
my cry has made both woman and man weep.
Whoever has been torn from a beloved
understands my song.
Cut off from the source,
we ache for reunion.
In gatherings of joy, I laugh with the laughter.
In moments of grief, I weep with the mourners.
The divine secrets are not apart from my lament
but only those tempered in the fire of love
can truly hear them.
These secrets belong to the heart,
not to the eyes or ears.
It is fire , not breath, that makes me sing.
And if you do not carry this fire within you,
you may as well be lifeless.
Tell me
how can the unripe ever comprehend
the majesty of love’s burning flame?
And if you encounter the unripe,
do not sing.
Do not preach.
Instead, take this counsel:
Offer farewell
and walk away.
— Rumi
