Don’t call this world adorable, or useful, that’s not it.It’s frisky, and a theater for more than fair winds.The eyelash of lightning is neither good nor evil. The struck tree burns like a pillar of gold. But the blue rain sinks, straight to the white feet of the trees whose mouth open.Doesn’t the wind, turning in… Continue reading Where Does the Dance Begin, Where Does It End?
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I will meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass the world is too full to talk about. -Rumi