• Define and narrow me, you starve yourself of yourself.
    Nail me down in a box of cold words, that box is your coffin.
    I do not know who I am,
    I am in astounding lucid confusion.
    I am not a Christian, I am not a Jew, I am not a Zoroastrian,
    And I am not even a Muslim.
    I do not belong to the land, or to any known or unknown sea.
    Nature cannot own or claim me, nor can heaven,
    Nor can India, China, Bulgaria,
    My birthplace is placelessness,
    My sign to have and give no sign.
    You say you see my mouth, ears, yes, nose---they are not mine.
    I am the life of life.
    I am that cat, this stone, no one.
    I have thrown duality away like an old dishrag,
     I see and know all times and worlds,
    As one, one, always one.
    So what do I have to do to get you to admit who is speaking?
    Admit it and change everything!
    This is your own voice echoing off the walls of God.

    - Rumi

  • Awake, my dear.
    Be kind to your sleeping heart.
    Take it our into the vast fields of Light And let it breathe.

    - Hafiz

  • Grant a great dignity my friend
    to the cup of your life
    Love has designed it to hold His eternal wine

    - Rumi

  • O friend, understand.
    The body is like the ocean, rich with hidden treasures.
    Open your innermost chamber
    And light its lamp.
    Within the body are gardens,
    Rare flowers, peacocks; the inner Music; Within the body a lake of bliss, On it, the white soul-swans take their joy.

    - Mirabai

  • Ground yourself, strip
    yourself down,
    To blind, loving silence.
    Stay there, until you see
    You are gazing at the Light
    With its own ageless eyes

    - Rumi

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  • It is the day of great, great joy.
    Let us all now, become friends.
    Let us join our hands.  Let us go to the Friend.
    We are all one, we are not two of one color and hue.
    Let us dance, let us go to the market, dancing.
    The beautiful friends now are starting to dance,
    So let's close the shop and dance, idle and free,
    Today is the day that the souls put on the robe of his grace,
    To mystery's side, to the side of mystery,
    We go dancing as God's guests.
    Al the gods and goddesses have pitched their tents in the garden
    And to see them, now we go to the rose garden

    - Rumi