I am that thorn for whom simply to be is an act of praise. Near the rose, no shame...! ~ Rumi

Apparent shapes and meanings change.
Creature hunts down creature.

Bales get unloaded and weighed
to determine price.

None of any of this pertains
to the unseen fire we call the Beloved.

That presence has no form,
and cannot be understood or measured.

Take your hands away from your face.
If a wall of dust moves across the plain,
there's usually an army advancing under it.

When you look for the Friend,
the Friend is looking for you.

Carried by a strong current,
you and the others with you
seem to be making decisions,
but you're not.

I weave coarse wool.
I decide to talk less.
But my actions
cause nothing.

A thorn grows next to
the rose as its witness.

I am that thorn for whom
simply to be is an act of praise.
Near the rose, no shame...!

~ Rumi