Saturday, February 7, 2009

winter in a moment, in its fullness

in a little place, in a brief moment - winter looks like this.

dry wisps of yellowed winter grass. a cold, thin breeze. snow rustling like sugar.

the great sufi poet rumi saw winter in its fullness . . .

winter is a time for death.
do you think death is a bad thing?
then you still haven't got it.
you've lived countless lives and died
countless deaths in an endless process of evolution.
each death has brought you more life.
without, death, there is no rebirth.
the ultimate death is nothing to do with the body.
it is the death of your self as separate from God.
you are standing at the edge of his ocean of love.
plunge below the surf of separation.
dive into the mystical depth.
dissolve yourself into that sea.
like a moth around a candle, be irresistibly drawn
to the light until you are engulfed by flames in an inferno of communion.
the lover chooses the fire because he knows
the secret: "the honey is worth the sting."

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