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 Mar 2016 Sia Jane
Rumi
Both light and shadow
are the dance of Love.

Love has no cause;
it is the astrolabe of God’s secrets.

Lover and Loving are inseparable
and timeless.



Although I may try to describe Love
when I experience it I am speechless.

Although I may try to write about Love
I am rendered helpless;
my pen breaks and the paper slips away
at the ineffable place
where Lover, Loving and Loved are one.



Every moment is made glorious
by the light of Love.
 Mar 2016 Sia Jane
Rumi
A lover asked his beloved,
Do you love yourself more
than you love me?



The beloved replied,
I have died to myself
and I live for you.



I’ve disappeared from myself
and my attributes.
I am present only for you.



I have forgotten all my learning,
but from knowing you
I have become a scholar.



I have lost all my strength,
but from your power
I am able.



If I love myself
I love you.
If I love you
I love myself.
 Mar 2016 Sia Jane
Rumi
The moon has become a dancer
at this festival of love.
This dance of light,

This sacred blessing,
This divine love,
beckons us
to a world beyond
only lovers can see
with their eyes of fiery passion.

They are the chosen ones
who have surrendered.
Once they were particles of light
now they are the radiant sun.

They have left behind
the world of deceitful games.
They are the privileged lovers
who create a new world
with their eyes of fiery passion.
Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth,
That having such a scope to show her pride,
The argument all bare is of more worth
Than when it hath my added praise beside.
O, blame me not if I no more can write!
Look in your glass, and there appears a face
That overgoes my blunt invention quite,
Dulling my lines, and doing me disgrace.
Were it not sinful then striving to mend,
To mar the subject that before was well?
For to no other pass my verses tend
Than of your graces and your gifts to tell;
    And more, much more than in my verse can sit,
    Your own glass shows you when you look in it.
 Mar 2016 Sia Jane
K Balachandran
I am your favorite fruit,
from the tree, this morning
you've freshly plucked
with a visible delight,
driven by an avid desire
that moved your dust coverd
pleasure seeker part
still kept alive, astonishingly
though you are no more
that young adventurer
once  you enjoyed being,
and have turmoils to handle.
You kept me safe in the
favorite nook of  your kitchen
not before caressing a bit
feeling my texture and
inhaling elating  fragrance.
you wanted to sit and eat this fruit
you did covet, so much when
you are free from daily grind.

But it's already sunset,darkness creeps,
there is no chance of a respite
for you, you easily forget
that there is no tomorrow,
perhaps you keep the thought
away,though you know
the things work out only today
as you want it, but can't help.

But as a woman of many parts
you may think it doesn't matter
you can throw the fruit out
before the night advances
hissing through your teeth
"Oh! it's gone to rot too soon"

I would still exist in the neuron
of your deeper brain, a sweet wish
unfulfilled, a little  eclipse in your
inner sky of many bright suns,
a neuron twitches continuously
independently, breaking the tune,
but yes, the world exists for both
it's sweet and bitter disappointments too.
And it necessitates taking life after life
to fulfill such small desires
and clean up, smile with contentment.
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