Rumi was a mystical poet of the 13th century.  I wish I could have had coffee with him.

***

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing

We do this.  We earn that.  But do we feel the pull of what’s next in our lives?

***

It doesn’t interest me how old you are
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive

Ahh … am I willing to be a fool?  To be looked at askance by most of humanity?

***

It doesn’t interest me what planets are
squaring your moon …
I want to know if you have touched
the center of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shriveled and closed
from fear of further pain

Forward please, ever forward, into life, into the depths of it … whether sorrow or ecstasy

***

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul

Perhaps you don’t like me.  I can smile with that.  Perhaps I am incomprehensible to you.  I remain tall

***

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have
I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children

The demons will continue to come close
What needs to be done to further the glory of living? And will I do it despite the trials of body and soul?

***

It doesn’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here
I want to know if you will stand
in the center of the fire
with me
and not shrink back

Did I mention “forward”? Let’s go into the flames together

***

The future is waiting for us