Roar, lion of the heart, and tear me open!

Pure souls, didn’t I tell you not to be seduced by this colorful world for I am the Ultimate Painter.

Whatever posessions and objects of its desires the lower self may obtain, it hangs on to them, refusing to let them go out of greed for more, or out of fear of poverty and need.

If God said, 'Rumi pay homage to everything that has helped you enter my arms,' there would not be one experience of my life, not one thought, not one feeling, nor any act, I would not bow to.

THIS TORTURE Why should we tell you our love stories when you spill them together like blood in the dirt? Love is a pearl lost on the ocean floor, or a fire we can’t see, but how does saying that push us through the top of the head into the light above the head? Love is not an iron pot, so this boiling energy won’t help. Soul, heart, self. Beyond and within those is one saying, How long before I’m free of this torture!

Your legs will get heavy and tired. Then comes a moment of feeling the wings you've grown, lifting.

From cane reeds, sugar. From a worm's cocoon, silk. Be patient if you can, and from sour grapes will come something sweet.