The Silent Articulation of A Face

Love comes with a knife, not some shy questions,
and not with fears for its reputation!
I say these things disinterestedly.
Accept them in kind.

Love is a madman,
working his wild schemes, tearing off his clothes,
running through the mountains, drinking poison,
and now quietly choosing annihilation.

A tiny spider tries to wrap an enormous wasp.
Think of the spiderweb woven across the cave
where Muhammed slept!
There are love stories,
and there is obliteration into love.

You’ve been walking the ocean’s edge,
holding up your robes to keep them dry.

You must dive naked under and deeper under,
a thousand times deeper! Love flows down.

The ground submits to the sky and suffers what comes.
Tell me, is the earth worse for giving in like that?

Don’t put blankets over the drums!
Open completely. Let your spirit-ear
listen to the green dome’s passionate murmur.

Let the cords of your robe be untied.
Shiver in this new love beyond all above and below.
The sun rises, but which way does night go?
I have no more words.

Let soul speak with the silent articulation of a face.

–Rumi

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