The Inner Courts of God
Lord, the air smells good today,
straight from the mysteries
within the inner courts of God.
A grace like new clothes thrown
across the garden, free medecine for everybody.
The trees in their prayer, the birds in praise,
the first blue violets kneeling.
Whatever came from Being is caught up in being, drunkenly
forgetting the way back.
(by Rumi)
Posts
2 comments:
"Whatever came from Being is caught up in being, drunkenly
forgetting the way back."
Nice.... (exhaling)
This is a sweet poem... had to read a few times. A friend has honeysuckle, and this poem reminded me of walking into her backyard...
Also, Trev, I finally bought Pronoia... a few pages in and I'm not sure what to think, but I'll see it through. (The book will be filled with my commentary, so I'm glad of the format!) I am just finishing zipping through Hardcore Zen, as well, which is in marked contrast to Pronoia.
Post a Comment