Poems reach up like spindrift and the edge of driftwood along the beach, wanting! They derive from a slow and powerful root that we canโt see. Stop the words now. Open the window in the center of your chest, and let the spirits fly in and out.
RumiDoing as others told me, I was Blind. Coming when others called me, I was Lost. Then I left everyone, myself as well. Then I found Everyone, Myself as well.
Rumi