Abundance

There is light and wine and sweethearts

in the Pomegranate Flowers.

Rumi

~Persia~



Wisdom

http://youtu.be/JFTKF2ShpyQ

The Sun never says to the Earth,

'you owe me'.

Look what happens with a love like that,

it lights up the whole Sky.

Hafiz

~Persia~



Lotus Stalks

Oh Soul

whip up the wind.

Let the bird fly

flower to flower

towards her mate

in

Sahasrara.

When that happens

the five elements in you

Earth, Fire, Water, Wind and Ether

will dissolve

and you'll be free

to merge

with the Supreme.

Battacharya

~India~



Two Loves

http://youtu.be/ary0HvFrwcI

I have loved Thee with two loves -

a selfish love and a love that is worthy of Thee.

As for the love which is selfish,

Therein I occupy myself with Thee,

to the exclusion of all others.

But in the love which is worthy of Thee,

Thou dost raise the veil that I may see Thee.

Yet is the praise not mine in this or that,

But the praise is to Thee in both that and this.

Rabia al Basri

~Iraq~

Wings

http://youtu.be/sCP0stBepaU

You were born with Wings!!

Why crawl through Life?

Rumi

~Persia~

Sultan of Love

http://youtu.be/9-XkiEaichQ

Sweetly parading you go my soul of soul, go not without me;
life of your friends, enter not the garden without me.
Sky, revolve not without me; moon, shine not without me;
earth travel not without me, and time, go not without me.
With you this world is joyous, and with you that world is joyous;
in this world dwell not without me, and to that world depart not without me.
Vision, know not without me, and tongue, recite not without me; glance behold not without me, and soul, go not without me.
The night through the moon's light sees its face white; I am light, you are my moon, go not to heaven without me.
The thorn is secure from the fire in the shelter of the roses face:

you are the rose, I your thorn;

go not into the rose garden without me.
I run in the curve of your mallet when your eye is with me;
even so gaze upon me, drive not without me, go not without me.
When, joy, you are companion of the king, drink not without me; when, watchman, you go to the kings roof, go not without me.
Alas for him who goes on this road without your sign; since you,

O signless one, are my sign, go not without me.
Alas for him who goes on the road without my knowledge;
you are the knowledge of the road for me;

O road-knower, go not without me.Others call you love,

I call you the Sultan of Love;

O you who are higher than the imagination of this and that,

go not without me.



Rumi

~Persia~



You

You are the master alchemist.

You light the fire of love
in earth and sky
in heart and soul
of every being.

Through your love
existence and nonexistence merge.
All opposites unite.
All that is profane
becomes sacred again.

Rumi

~Persia~



Union

As is above,

So is below.

Thoth

~Egypt~

Flowing Waters

http://youtu.be/bAl1Bi3Gf9A

The touch of

Sacred Water

is something we crave

at times.

We wish to be cleansed

of our sins,

misdeeds,

and even our own past at times.

Anonymous

~In reference to Water as all Sacred Source of Life and Divine Manifest~

Divan

http://youtu.be/KGyTMQQfS8c

When we enter the excitement of the Night

We'll amass gifts from the Ocean of the Night.

The Night veils the unseen witness from sight

We cannot compare the Day to the Night.

Sleep will not want, from sleep will take flight

He who has never seen the pisturesque Night.

Many a pure soul and Heart that is bright

Employed in service to the demands of the Night.

Night is an empty pot, black, contrite,

if never tasted delicacies of the Night.

This journey is long, God speed our plight

As we traverse the length and width of the Night.

From worldly affairs my hands are tied tight

Till twilight, I am in the Hands of the Night.

Commerce and trade are the work of Daylight

Of different taste are the Trades of the Night.

You have reached Solar Heights

Sun jealous of you, while begs for you the Night.

Rumi

Divan-e-Shams 39

~Persia~

Eternity

http://youtu.be/2JvRj_Y4eSU

The Rose was

not looking for the morning;

on its branch, almost inmortal

it looked for something other.

The Rose was

not looking for wisdom, or for shadow;

the edge of flesh and dreaming,

it looked for something other.

The Rose was

not looking for the rose; was

unmoving in the heavens;

it looked for something other.

Lorca

~Spain~

The Music

http://youtu.be/138CwbWms8U

My friend,

The stain of the Great Dancer has penetrated my body.

I drank the Cup of Music

and I am hopelessly Drunk.

Mirabai

~India~







Praise

http://youtu.be/v7pByldzMvE

To Praise is

to praise how one

Surrenders

to the Emptiness.

Rumi

~Persia~

Wine

I drink no ordinary wine

but Wine of Everlasting Bliss,

As I repeat my Mother Kali's name;

It so intoxicates my mind that people take me to be drunk!

First, My teacher gives Molasses

for the making of the Wine;

My longing is the ferment

to transform it.

Knowledge, the maker of the Wine,

prepares it for me then;

and when it is done,

my mind imbibes it from the bottle of the Mantra.

Taking the Mother's Name to make it pure.

She is Mother Kali.

Sri Ramprasad

~India~

Beauty

http://youtu.be/VsRUplkHdaQ

Beauty surrounds us,

But usually we need to be walking in a garden to know it.

Rumi

~Persia~

One Light

What are "I" and "You"?

Just lattices

In the niches of a lamp

Through which the One Light radiates.

"I" and "You" are the veil

Between heaven and earth;

Lift this veil and you will see

How all sects and religions are one.

Lift this veil and you will ask---

When "I" and "You" do not exist

What is mosque?

What is synagogue?

What is fire temple?

Shabistari

~Persia~



The Gift

How
Did the Rose
Ever open its heart
And give to this world
All its
Beauty?
It felt the encouragement of Light
against its
Being.

Hafiz

~Persia~



Nonexistence

http://vimeo.com/6870196

Many mistakes may occur in love.

The first of them is that people imagine that

the object of love is an existent thing...

In fact, love's object remains forever nonexistent,

 but most lovers are not aware of this,

unless they should be knowers of the realities.

Ibn Arabi

~Spain~

Ode



http://youtu.be/QeetL5TurPc

I am Sarasvati,

the graceful flowing of the waters of divine poetry
I cause the river of inspiration to enter the artist

in joyous swirls and fountains
I cause the waves of bliss to take form within the heart,

and emerge as tales of love.

My holy places on earth are small grottoes

of strong light and shade
Where the poet may sit and glide off into blue skies
Overgrown banks of streams, full with grass and wild-flowers
The moss-covered rocks beneath the waterfall
Small places where the body may be left
While the soul flies into the heavens.

I am seen in art nouveau waters, and the golden lakes on Japanese screens
The scroll whose hidden treasure lies in a small cove
The beautiful place in the middle of a field, where a cluster of white flowers grows
Where birds and animals flock by nature, to rest in the warm breezes and dewdrops.

To those on the winding path of the spirit I say:
I am no guide to the top of the snowy mountains
My home is amid peace and beauty, the swirling of water and music
I work with those who wish to give to the world
Who return from the heights or who have not begun their journey
Who give their love to the world and not to distant gods.

To them I give the gift
Of lovely speech and beautiful voice
Ideas which do no hesitate, but dance out into the world
Waves of creativity which have only need of media for expression
Music and dance which occur spontaneously and are perfect

I give patience to the potter, a keen eye to the artist
I form the words of affection in the mouth of the lover
I give rhythm and melody to the musician, so that he does not play
But acts as a channel for the music of the universe.

I have no taste for bickering gods who rule the skies
Nor those so high that they do not wish to communicate
My love is grace and beauty, the joys of creation
I flow in the river, and down the waterfall
Rushing in whirlpools, and rising slowly in shining bubbles
To alight besides a lone musician
To fill him with the love and grace of the universe.

courtesy of: Crystal Rivers

Peace

There is no path to Peace.

Peace is the Path.

Gandhi

~India~

Moon

When the moon sails out

the water hides Earth's surface,

the Heart feels like and Island

in the Infinite Silence.

Lorca

~Spain~

Being

All I was doing was being,

and

the Dancing Energy

came by my house.

Mirabai

~India~

Light

In your light,

 I learn how to love.

In your beauty,

how to make poems.

 You dance inside my chest where no-one sees you,

but sometimes I do,

 and that sight becomes this art.

Rumi

~Persia~

Love

Many other woes in the World besides Love;

many other comforts...

Faiz

~Pakistan~

Snow

The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon

Turns Ashes

or it Prospers, and anon,

like

Snow

Upon the Desert's dusty Face

Lighting a little Hour or two

is gone.

Khayyam

~Persia~



Shakti

This is a tribute to the Shakti.

She who is felt, but never understood.

Understood but never encompassed,

encompassed but never encircled until embraced,

embraced only if you are very foolish or blessed.

Tarun

~India~



Let Yourself

Let Yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love.

Rumi

~Persia~

Buds Into Blossoms

No: it is not yours to open buds into blossoms.

Shake the bud, strike it; it is beyond your power to make it blossom.

Your touch soils it, you tear its petals to pieces and strew them in the dust.

But no colours appear, and no perfume.

Ah! it is not for you to open the bud into a blossom.

He who can open the bud does it so simply.

He gives it a glance, and the life-sap stirs through its veins.

At his breath the flower spreads its wings and flutters in the wind.

Colours flush out like heart-longings, the perfume betrays a sweet secret.

He who can open the bud does it so simply.

Tagore

~India~



Invocation To The Laurel

Over the Horizon, lost in confusion,

came the sad night, pregnant with stars.

I, like the bearded mage of the tales,

knew the language of stones and flowers.

I learned the secrets of melancholy,

told by cypresses, nettles and ivy;

I knew the dream from lips of nard,

sang serene songs with the irises.

In the old forest, filled with its blackness,

all of them showed me the souls they have;

the pines, drunk on aroma and sound;

the old olives, burdened with knowledge;

the dead poplars, nests for the ants;

the moss, snowy with white violets.

All spoke tenderly to my heart

trembling in threads of rustling silk

where water involves motionless things,

like a web of eternal harmony.

The roses there were sounding the lyre,

oaks weaving the gold of legends,

and amidst their virile sadness

the junipers spoke of rustic fears.

I knew all the passion of woodland;

rhythms of leaves, rhythms of stars.

But tell me, oh cedars, if my heart

will sleep in the arms of perfect light!

I know the lyre you prophecy, roses:

fashioned of strings from my dead life.

Tell me what pool I might leave it in,

as former passions are left behind!

I know the mystery you sing of, cypress;

I am your brother of night and pain;

we hold inside us a tangle of nests,

you of nightingales, I of sadness!

I know your endless enchantment, old olive tree,

yielding us blood you extract from the Earth,

like you, I extract with my feelings

the sacred oil

held by ideas!

You all overwhelm me with songs;

I ask only for my uncertain one;

none of you will quell the anxieties

of this chaste fire

that burns in my breast.

O laurel divine, with soul inaccessible,

always so silent,

filled with nobility!

Pour in my ears your divine history,

all your wisdom, profound and sincere!

Tree that produces fruits of the silence,

maestro of kisses and mage of orchestras,

formed from Daphne’s roseate flesh

with Apollo’s potent sap in your veins!

O high priest of ancient knowledge!

O solemn mute, closed to lament!

All your forest brothers speak to me;

only you, harsh one, scorn my song!

Perhaps, oh maestro of rhythm, you muse

on the pointlessness of the poet’s sad weeping.

Perhaps your leaves, flecked by the moonlight,

forgo all the illusions of spring.

The delicate tenderness of evening,

that covered the path with black dew,

holding out a vast canopy to night,

came solemnly, pregnant with stars.

Lorca

~Spain~

What Was Said To The Rose

What was said to the rose that made it open
was said to me here in my chest.

What was told the Cypress that made it strong and straight,

what was whispered to the jasmine
so it is what it is,

whatever made sugarcane sweet,

whatever was said

to the inhabitants of the town of Chigil inTurkistan

that makes them so handsome,

whatever lets the pomegranate flower blush like a human face,

that is being said to me now.
I blush.

Whatever put eloquence in language,
that's happening here.

The great warehouse doors open;
I fill with gratitude,
chewing a piece of sugarcane,

in love with the one to whom every that belongs!

Rumi

~Persia~

My Heart Has Become Able To Take On All Forms

My heart has become able
To take on all forms.
It is a pasture for gazelles,
For monks an abbey.

It is a temple for idols
And for whoever circumambulates it, the Kaaba.
It is the tablets of the Torah
And also the leaves of the Koran.

I believe in the religion
Of Love
Whatever direction its caravans may take,
For love is my religion and my faith.

Ibn Arabi 

~Spain~