Rumi and I

Rumi came back. “Raise your voice, not words.” Someone who has a soul says,”Raise your words, not voice.” I am Rumi and Rumi is me.

Rumi is a mystic. So Am I.

I read Rumi, I dissolves.

And only Rumi is left, standing in the doorway, waiting to be called. The wait doesn’t reflect on Rumi’s face – a face so pure, a smile so deep, and the eyes so mesmerizing. Soul gets up to savour the moment when the light shines on Rumi’s face. It is hard to say if the bulb has enlightened in the presence of Rumi. Everything in that room wakes up to a new life. A life they were all yearning for, a longing to be in the shadow of a mystic.

And here he is.

The soul staggers, touching the wall that has suddenly has life. Is this what happens when a mystic comes to see you.

To enter deep into your soul.