Ode to Friday: Rumi

Praise to the emptiness that blanks out existence. Existence:
this place made from our love for that emptiness!
Yet somehow comes emptiness,
this existence goes.
Praise to that happening, over and over!

For years I pulled my own existence out of emptiness.
Then one swoop, one swing of the arm,
that work is over.
Free of who I was, free of presence, free of
dangerous fear, hope,
free of mountainous wanting.

The here-and-now mountain is a tiny piece of a piece
of straw
blown off into emptiness.

These words I’m saying so much begin to lose meaning:
existence, emptiness, mountain, straw: words
and what they try to say swept
out the window, down the slant of the roof.

~ This world which is made of our love for emptiness, Rumi (Persian, 1207-1273), translated by Coleman Banks



4 thoughts on “Ode to Friday: Rumi

    • Rumi is speaking to you, Richard. I hear the yearning, the curiosity you have for the realm within the realm, the “emptiness from which we pull our existence”, despite your fear it means loss and aloneness. That’s courage. Explanation is not the access. Explanation is words down the slant of the roof. Laying aside explanation is the access; the necessary and insufficient action.


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