Am I a Falcon

I live my life in widening circles

that reach out across the world.

I may not complete this last one

but I give myself to it.

I circle around God, around the primordial tower.

I've been circling for thousands of years

and I still don't know: am I a falcon,

a storm, or a great song?

Rainer Marie Rilke

Quietness

"Inside this new love, die. 

Your way begins on the other side. 

Become the sky. 

Take an axe to the prison wall. Escape. 

Walk out like someone suddenly born into color. Do it now. 

You’re covered with thick cloud. 

Slide out the side. 

Die, and be quiet. 

Quietness is the surest sign that you’ve died. 

Your old life was a frantic running from silence. 

The speechless full moon comes out now."

Rumi

True Love

"Love is essentially self-communicative : those who do not have it catch it from those who have it. 

Those who receive love from others cannot be its recipients without giving a response, 

which, in itself, is the nature of Love. 

True Love is unconquerable and irresistible. 

It goes on gathering power and spreading itself until eventually it transforms everyone it touches."

~Meher Baba

 

Love Itself

'Whether you have loved a human being or whether you have loved God, if you have loved enough you will be brought in the end into the presence of the supreme Love itself.'

Rumi

Death of Beatrice

Beyond the sphere that circles most widely

passes the sigh that issues from my heart:

new intelligence, that Love

weeping instills within it, drives it upwards.

When it is near where it desires,

it sees a lady, who receives honour,

and is a light, that by its splendour

the pilgrim spirit can gaze upon her.

Seeing her such, when it says so to me,

I do not understand, it speaks so subtly

to the grieving heart, which makes it speak.

I know it speaks of that gentle one,

since it often  mentions Beatrice,

so that I know it truly, ladies dear to me.

After writing this sonetto a miraculous vision appeared to me, in which I saw things which made me decide to write nothing more of this blessed one until such time as I could treat of her more worthily.

    And to achieve this I study as much as I can, as she truly knows. So that, if it pleases Him by whom all things live, that my life lasts a few years, I hope to write of her what has never been written of any woman.

    And then may it be pleasing to Him who is the Lord of courtesy, that my soul might go to see the glory of its lady, that is of that blessed Beatrice, who gloriously gazes on the face of Him qui est per omnia secula benedictus: who is blessed throughout all the ages.

One Whisper

One Whisper of the Beloved

Lovers share a sacred decree –

to seek the Beloved.

They roll head over heels,

rushing toward the Beautiful One

like a torrent of water.

In truth, everyone is a shadow of the Beloved –

Our seeking is His seeking,

Our words are His words.

At times we flow toward the Beloved

like a dancing stream.

At times we are still water

held in His pitcher.

At times we boil in a pot

turning to vapor –

that is the job of the Beloved.

He breathes into my ear

until my soul

takes on His fragrance.

He is the soul of my soul –

How can I escape?

But why would any soul in this world

want to escape from the Beloved?

He will melt your pride

making you thin as a strand of hair,

Yet do not trade, even for both worlds,

One strand of His hair.

We search for Him here and there

while looking right at Him.

Sitting by His side we ask,

“O Beloved, where is the Beloved?”

Enough with such questions! 

Let silence take you to the core of life.

All your talk is worthless

When compared to one whisper

of the Beloved.

--Rumi

Open Road

From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines,

Going where I list, my own master total and absolute,

Listening to others, considering well what they say,

Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,

Gently,but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me.

I inhale great draughts of space,

The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine.

I am larger, better than I thought,

I did not know I held so much goodness.

All seems beautiful to me,

I can repeat over to men and women You have done such good to me I would do the same to you,

I will recruit for myself and you as I go,

I will scatter myself among men and women as I go,

I will toss a new gladness and roughness among them,

Whoever denies me it shall not trouble me,

Whoever accepts me he or she shall be blessed and shall bless me.

Walt Whitman

Heart to Heart

"Love has to spring spontaneously from within; it is in no way amenable to any form of inner or outer force. 

Love and coercion can never go together; but while love cannot be forced upon anyone, it can be awakened through love itself.

Love is essentially self-communicative; those who do not have it catch it from those who have it. 

Those who receive love from others cannot be its recipients without giving a response that, in itself, is the nature of love.

True love is unconquerable and irresistible. 

It goes on gathering power and spreading itself until eventually it transforms everyone it touches. Humanity will attain a new mode of being and life through the free and unhampered interplay of pure love from heart to heart."
Meher Baba

Unbreakable

Unbreakable, O Lord,

Is the love

That binds me to You:

Like a diamond,

It breaks the hammer that strikes it.

My heart goes into You

As the polish goes into the gold.

As the lotus lives in its water,

I live in You.

Like the bird

That gazes all night

At the passing moon,

I have lost myself dwelling in You.

O my Beloved Return.

- Mirabai

Flame of Love

O living flame of love
That tenderly wounds my soul
In its deepest center! Since
Now you are not oppressive,
Now consummate! if it be your will:
Tear through the veil of this sweet encounter!

O sweet cautery,
O delightful wound!
O gentle hand! O delicate touch
That tastes of eternal life
And pays every debt!
In killing you changed death to life.

O lamps of fire!

in whose splendors
The deep caverns of feeling,
Once obscure and blind,
Now give forth, so rarely, so exquisitely,
Both warmth and light to their Beloved.

How gently and lovingly
You wake in my heart,
Where in secret you dwell alone;
And in your sweet breathing,
Filled with good and glory,
How tenderly You swell my heart with love.

St. John of the Cross