light will someday split you open

 

Light
will someday split you open;
even if your life is now a cage …

Love
will surely burst you wide open
into an unfettered,
blooming new galaxy.

– Hafiz

 

– Tatiana Plakhova

complexitygraphics.com

 

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15 thoughts on “light will someday split you open

    • Yes @kjpgarcia, the poetry of Hafiz is exquisite. Thanks for leaving your comment – and introducing me to your blog with its beautiful poetry and photography.
      ~ miriam louisa

    • Thank you for leaving your comment @clareflourish – I’m delighted to know about your blog – the “Movement and Repose” post is wonderful:

      “Wisdom, and beauty, knocking on my door all the time, importunate, demanding, only needing for me to notice. Wisdom, and beauty, and Love.”

      Ahhhhh!

      ~ miriam louisa

    • Dearest Leslie I don’t think I have ever been surer about anything.

      I’m in covert league with Hafiz. And Rumi. And Shams. And and and …

      Love has done a sneaky on me. And I wasn’t even looking.

      About which, more later…

      X♥X♥X♥ ~ ml

  1. “I’m in covert league with Hafiz. And Rumi. And Shams. And and and …” OH….YES!!!!!!! Then I am holding on to your ankles this very moment Dearest ML.
    x♥ x♥ x♥ ~O

  2. Oh God
    Let all lovers be content
    Give them happy endings
    Let their lives be celebrations
    Let their hearts dance in the fire of your love.
    ~Rumi

    Day and night my father danced in ecstasy, Spinning on earth like the turning heavens.

    ~Sultan Walad (Rumi’s Son) “Sama is the sacred whirling dance of the dervishes, in which the motions of the human body represent the movements of the universe.”

  3. Wu said to Wei,
    “there’s a natural unfolding
    a non-way of sorts
    in which love invisibly
    happens through~not to us
    without effort or action
    yet with impeccable
    precision
    as finely focused
    as a scalpel’s incision~
    as purely
    mysterious
    as a cocoon’s dying
    into a butterfly or moth
    and as wondrously wild
    as wildly wondrous
    as an impecunious mystic
    who discovers
    she has won the lottery
    without having bought
    a ticket.

    love moves
    ever-bloomingly
    from silence into song
    through song back into silence~
    sometimes fiercely
    other times tenderly.
    It has no preferences
    IT simply knows
    without knowing
    the way moonlight touches~
    it sees the mala beads
    that still wait to be touched
    by the devotee’s
    precious hands.

    “and,”
    Wei whispered to Wu,
    “once struck,
    the singing bowl
    simply sings
    effortlessly
    and unstoppably.
    the vibration
    of particles may cease
    but since energy
    like love
    can not be created
    or destroyed
    it simply transmutes
    into a different form.”

    “so too,”
    chimed the wind,
    “the delicate scent
    of ylang ylang
    fills the entire garden
    and one small candle
    can fill a darkened room~

    ‘doing nothing’
    yet transmuting everything.”

    through love
    we “do” without doing
    there is nothing to do
    and nothing not to do
    not ‘doing’ something
    and not ‘not doing’ anything
    love co-arises.

    we can never know it
    we can only BE it.
    there’s a natural
    uncontrived movement
    in the currents of love~

    indisplaceable
    like ether
    love holds
    and permeates all objects
    and all beings.
    love is the greatest
    euthanasia
    for the conceptual mind~

    and in its mystery
    we are amazed to find
    more than we ever imagined
    and so much less than we ever feared.

    • Such a treasure Rashani! Thank you. May I have your permission to post this sometime?

      … from silence to song and back again …

      With love ~ ml

  4. bien sûr, ma belle~

    i have changed a word or two so let me know when you will be posting it…

    byron katie said, “‎The ‘no thing’ is no more or less than the apparent thing. It is a total love affair.”

    oh yes, TOTAL!

  5. dear miriam louisa,

    here is the updated version:

    Wu said to Wei,
    “there’s a natural
    unfolding
    a non-way of sorts
    in which love
    invisibly happens
    through
    not to us
    without effort or action
    yet
    with impeccable
    precision
    as finely focused
    as a scalpel’s
    incision
    as purely
    mysterious
    as a cocoon’s dying
    into a butterfly
    or moth,
    deifyingly ordinary~
    bright silk lining
    on a simple
    clothen robe~
    and wondrously wild
    as an impecunious mystic
    winning the lottery
    without having
    bought a ticket.

    love moves
    ever-bloomingly
    from silence into song
    through song back
    to silence~
    sometimes fiercely
    other times tenderly.
    It has no preferences
    IT simply knows
    without knowing
    the way moonlight
    touches~
    like a single tear
    from shiva’s eye
    it sees
    the rudraksha beads
    that wait
    to be touched
    by the devotee’s
    loving fingers.”

    “and,” Wei reminded Wu,
    “once struck,
    the singing bowl
    simply sings
    effortlessly and unstoppably.
    the vibration
    of particles may cease
    but since energy
    like love
    can not be created
    or destroyed
    it simply changes
    into a different form.”

    “so too,”
    whispered the wind,
    “the delicate scent
    of ylang ylang
    permeates the entire garden
    and one small candle
    can fill a darkened room~
    ‘doing nothing’
    yet transmuting everything.”

    through love
    we “do” without doing
    there is nothing to do
    and nothing not to do
    not ‘doing’ something
    and not ‘not doing’ anything
    love co-arises.
    we can never know it
    we can only BE it.

    there’s an innocent
    spontaneity,
    ancient as a song line
    in Gondwanaland,
    moving inexorably
    like ground water
    beneath a barren desert.

    indisplaceable
    like ether
    the endless helix
    of love
    holds
    and permeates
    all objects
    and all beings.

    love is the greatest
    euthanasia
    for the conceptual mind~
    and in its mystery
    we are destined to find
    more than we ever imagined
    and less than we ever feared.

  6. Pingback: you are the light of the world | this unlit light

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