Can you become such a king rumi

Now consider what the prophets have done. Abraham wore fire for an anklet. Moses spoke to the sea. David molded iron. Solomon rode the wind. Work in the invisible world at least as hard as you do in the visible. Be companions with the prophets even though no one here will know that you are, not even the helpers of the qutb, the abdals. You can't imagine what profit will come! When one of those generous ones invites you into his fire, go quickly!

Don't say, "But will it burn me? Will it hurt? Se can tie knots in your chest that only God's breathing loosens. Don't take her appeal lightly. What was told the cypress that made it strong and straight, what was whispered the jasmine so it is what it is, whatever made sugarcane sweet, whatever was said to the inhabitants of the town of Chigil in Turkestan 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! Listen to their sorrows with compassion. If you want peace, don't harbor bad thoughts, do not gossip and don't teach what you do not know.

How is it with this love, I see your world, but not you? The caravan master sees his camels lost in it, nose to tail, as he himself is, his friend, and the stranger coming toward them.

A gardener watches the sky break into song, cloud wobbly with what it is. Bud, thorn, the same. Wind, water, wandering this essential state. Fire, ground, gone. That's how it is with the outside. Form is ecstatic. Now imagine the inner: soul, intelligence, the secret worlds!

And don't think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter. It's quiet, but the roots are down there rioutous. If someone bumps you in the street, don't be angry. Everyone careens about in this surprise. Respond in kind. Let the knots untie, turbans be given away. Someone drunk on this could drink a donkeyload a night. Believer, unbeliever, cynic, lover, all combine in the spirit-form we are, but no one yet is awake like Shams. This world is drenched with that drowning. How did you use your eyes?

What did you make with your five senses while they were dimming and playing out? I gave you hands and feet as tools for preparing the ground for planting. Did you, in the health I gave, do the plowing? You will bend double, and finally acknowledge the glory. God will say, "Lift your head and answer the questions. Tell what you've done. I have given you such gifts.

What did you do with them? Help me out of this! They will answer, those kings, "The time for helping is past. The plow stands there in the field. You should have used it. This conversation is between you and your creator. I am torn to shreds. You are my first and last and only refuge. Don't do daily prayers like a bird pecking, moving its head up and down.

Prayer is an egg. Hatch out the total helplessness inside. I am lost in that other. It's sweet not to look at two worlds, to melt in meaning as honey melts in milk.

No one tires of following the soul. I don't recall now what happens on the manifest plane. I stroll with those I have always wanted to know, fresh and graceful as a water lily, or a rose. The body is a boat; I am waves swaying against it. Whenever it anchors somewhere, I smash it loose, or smash it to pieces. If I get lazy and cold, flames come from my ocean and surround me. I laugh inside them like gold purifying itself. A certain melody makes the snake put his head down on a line in the dirt Here is my head, brother: What next!

Weary of form, I come into qualities. Each says, "I am a blue-green sea. Dive into me! She made a paste of pages from the Qur'an to fill the deep creases on her face and neck with. This is not about an old woman, dear reader. It's about you, or anyone who tries to use books to make themselves attractive. There she is, sticking scripture, thick with saliva, on her face.

Of course, the bits keep falling off. You don't need me. You are yourself a troop of demons! Don't bother. Death comes and all talking, stolen or not, stops. Pity anyone unfamiliar with silence when that happens. Polish your heart with mediation and quietness. Let the inner life grow generous and handsome like Joseph. Zuleika did that and her "old woman's spring cold snap" turned to mid-July. Dry lips wet from within.

Ink is not rouge. Let language lie bygone. Now is where love breathes. You want to know the meaning of phenomenal duration, so you can teach others and help their souls unfold. Anyone who asks this question has some of the answer. Sow seed corn, Moses, and you will experience the purpose of taking a form. Moses plants and tends the crop; when the ears have ripened to the shape of their beauty, he brings out to the field his blade and sharpening stone. The unseen voice comes, Why did you work to bring the corn to perfection only now to chop it down?

They must be stored in different cribs in the barn. So creation has a purpose. God has said, I was a hidden treasure, and I desired to be known. That desire is part of manifestation. Usually after three or four months they would die. She grieved long and publicly. One night she had a revelation. She saw the place of unconditional love, call it the garden or source of gardens.

The physical eye cannot see its unseeable light. Lamp, green flower, these are just comparisons, so that some of the love-bewildered may catch a fragrance. The woman saw pure grace and, drunk with the seeing, fell to the ground. Those who have the vision said then, "This morning meal is for those who rise with sincere devotion. The tragedies you've had came from other times when you did not take refuge.

Tear me to pieces, if it leads here. Her children were all there, "Lost to me," she cried, "but not to you. All else, shadow without substance. Have you seen someone fall in love with his own shadow?

Where is someone who can do that? Love is a tree with branches reaching into eternity and roots set deep in eternity, and no trunk!

Have you seen it? The mind cannot. Your desiring cannot. The longing you feel for this love comes from inside you. When you become the Friend, your longing will be as the man in the ocean who holds to a piece of wood. Eventually wood, man, and ocean become one swaying being, Shams Tabriz, the secret of God.

You have had certain visions. Before them, did not mysticism sound ridiculous? What you've been given has released you from prison, ten times! And won't this empty desert freedom you feel now someday be confining? Neither this nor that, I'm not part of a group that loves flute music or one that loves gambling or drinking wine. Those who live in time, descended from Adam, made of earth and water, I'm not part of that.

Don't listen to what I say, as though these words came from an inside and went to an outside. Your faces are very beautiful, but they are wooden cages. You had better run from me. My words are fire. I have nothing to do with being famous, or making grand judgments, or feeling full of shame.

I borrow nothing. I don't want anything from anybody. I flow through human beings. Love is my only companion. When union happens, my speech goes inside toward Shams. At that meeting all the secrets of language will no longer be secret. That's why we look for something more than this. It delights in spring blossoms, even as they fall. Muhammad says, I close my eyes and rest in sleep, but my love never needs rest.

The guard at the gate drowses. The king stays awake. You have a king inside who listens for what delights the soul. That king's wakefulness cannot be described in a poem. Share this quote:. Like Quote. Recommend to friends. To see what your friends thought of this quote, please sign up! Josip 1 book view quotes. Nov 06, AM. Bharati 26 books view quotes.

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