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Reza Bavar Jul 2018
Oh Jalaluddin!
You counseled me to "Tear down this house"
My House

Because I Love you
I'm taking your advice
Tearing it down

Brick
by
Brick

Plank
by
Plank

I'll start from the outside
And work my way in

People will stop and stare
"Another crazy person" they'll observe
"He's gone mad" they'll whisper as I break down the walls
"He's a fool" they'll note as I bring down the chimney
"He's lost" they'll gossip as I break the foundation
"Stay away from him" they'll warn as I sit in the rubble

"Were they right all along" I'll ask again and again
"Did I make a mistake"
"Did I burn my life on a whim"
"How do I know"
"Is it possible to know"

It's a lonely place this one
In the ruins
Tired and hungry
Gathering energy to dig
With the Pickaxe You gave me at birth

Alone
Homeless
Afraid

I Surrender...
This poem was inspired by a poem written by Rumi called "The Pickaxe"
D Jun 2018
Despair often embark in a lovers joy

When the love gone missing for only a speed second

All triumph and exhilaration turns to dust and disappears into thin air

The sense of love that one feels suddenly alter into immeasurable grief

An hour of disturbed, sorrowful contemplation pass by like thousand nights of longing for a reaching hand or devoted kiss

Do not mistake fire for water

Humans in love would have cried out,

“I want to catch fire and be all burnt just to taste water again.”

Do not mistake poison for wine, for insane lovers say

“Let this bitterness reverse against any other taste upon my tongue, and let this body sick. All I want is my soul to be drunk and content with a lover’s sanity.”

Be patient when you want to be in love

And let go when you think that love is not meant to be

For love always come again

Spreading hands

Feeding souls

Overcoming ego

And finally kiss the unreached parts of solely your body.
Aryeh Jun 2018
There is no shortage of mystery here
For us, conceived in dying suns
There is no shortage of mystery here
For tiny dancing 0's and 1's

There is no shortage of suffering
Everything is being eaten
there is no shortage of suffering
In our mind's eye only, we see Eden

But there is no shortage of mystery
simple matter makes minds melt
There is no shortage of mystery
The holy spirit is matter felt

We suffer for no reason
And for the same reason, we play
For everything, there is a season
But it doesn’t always work that way

Behold the world is stranger still
Are you sure you know enough to worry
You have not begun to understand
If you are not a ball of tears and fury

And you have not begun to finish
Until your laughter fills the air
There is a field beyond our minds
And I will meet you there
Kartikeya Jain Mar 2018
And I always wonder
about the land
Rumi talked about.
I have a feeling
we met there.
Tina RSH Feb 2018
You go through void like a dancing Cliff
Bold,having nothing to latch onto!
In your highest highs tasting earth with gratitude
And yet you dance through and through.
Watchful of the background and vibration.
The mother and the child too.
sorrow came and washed away
All you thought would stick like glue
You cried and laughed along this wave.
You watched you could take nothing with you.
I know for a reason you paused,
Extracted the pain from your pocket
And sold it to the Sunbeam.
And you rode each wave,beaming, without a clue.
To my beloved Spiritual teacher who's had a huge impact on my life. Thx ***
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