Monday, January 27, 2014

Letters p I

Rumi, what am I supposed to be doing?
Where is Shams? Where is the sun of the sun?
To which direction do I turn when sight fails
And the horizon reveals only mirages?
What tongue do I speak when my soul's night
has chased the words out of my mouth?
To which constellation do I turn when my eyes
swallow light like black holes?
In what language would the words of love
not flee from me
after tasting the kiss of my faithless lips?
Through which window do I fly
when the house of my soul
becomes too claustrophobic for my dreams?
Where do awakened dreams find refuge
from this sleeping reality?
What is the soul of the soul?
Who is the spirit of the spirit?
"Who am I? Where is my soul from?
And what am I supposed to be doing?"


*quotes: Rumi

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