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When love itself comes to kiss you,
 
don't hold back! 
 
 When the king
 
goes hunting, the forest smiles. 
Now the king has become the place 
and all the players, prey, bystander, 
bow, arrow, hand and release. How does that feel?
 
 
 Last night's dream
 
enters these open eyes. 
 
 When we die
 
and turn to dust, each particle will 
be the whole. 
 You hear a mote whirl
 
taking form? 
 
 My music.  Love, calm,
 
patient. 
 
 The Friend has waded down
 
into existence, gotten stuck, and will not be seen
 again outside of
 
this. 
 
 We sometimes make spiderwebs
 
of smoke and saliva, fragile thought - 
packets. 
 
 Leave thinking to the one
 
who gave intelligence . 
 
 In silence
 
there is eloquence. 
 
 Stop weaving,
 
and watch how the pattern improves. 
 
 
~ Rumi 
from the soul of Rumi 
translations by Coleman Barks 
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