Water From Your Spring
What was in that candle’s light
that opened and consumed me so quickly?
Come back, my friend! The form of our love
is not a created form.
Nothing can help me but that beauty.
There was a dawn I remember
when my soul heard something
from your soul. I drank water
from your spring and felt
the current take me.
The lord of beauty enters the soul
as a man walks into an orchard in Spring.
Come into me
that way again!
Ligth the lamp
in the eye of Joseph. Cure Jacob’s
sadness. Though you never left,
come and sit down here and ask,
“Why are you so confused?”
Like a fresh idea in an artist’s mind,
you fashion things before they come into being.
You sweep the floor like the man
who keeps the doorway.
When you brush
a form clean, it becomes
what it truly is.
You guard your silence perfectly
like a waterbag that doesn’t leak.
You live where the Shams lives,
because your heart-donkey was strong enough
to take you there.
Rumi poetry, Rumi poems