Nebula, by Olga Grapsa

Right now I am standing at the edge of shore
Starring through the infinite space
While endless trials are born around me

Miracles
The sea’s breath
The moon’s pull
Creatures transforming moments into their untold purpose

But my own untold story vanishes in the horizon
Instead, the burning letters of the book of fire ride across the waves
Chanting another story

Oh Agni!

If I squint my eyes the salt-wind weakens
If I open my arms life takes me

I bring my foot onto the foam
and I’m caught on fire

And the sun and the moon encircle me
and the entire cosmos resides in me
Stars dance from my palms
and die at my knees
born anew with every tear

And I collapse into my self
To find my untold story
To read my own immortal pages
in the darkness of Time

I am a Nebula whose words are beads of light
And I shine in some infinite space
to one day be found

You will

Who will transcend this world? Who will transcend the realm of the dead, and heaven, too, with all its gods? Who will find the true and shining way of the path?

You will.

Even as the gatherer of flowers discovers the finest and rarest, so you will gather the teachings and transcend this world.

When you know that the body is merely the foam on the crest of a wave, unreal as a mirage, you will break the flowery arrows of craving. Unseen, you will escape the king of death and travel onward.

The scent of sandalwood, lilies and jasmine cannot travel against the wind, but you will travel. The fragrance of good works travels in all directions.

How brightly the lotus grows in the rubbish by the wayside. Its sweet scent lightens the heart.

So you, the awakened, will shine in the darkness around you, spreading the sweet scent of your wisdom.

– Buddha (taken from the Dhammapada)

Heroes, by Rumi

HEROES

Does any artist paint for the sake of the picture itself, without the hope of offering some good?

No, but for the sake of  the viewers and the young who will be drawn by it and freed from cares.

Or does any potter hastily throw a pot or a bowl without any thought of what it will hold?

Does any calligrapher write for the script alone without any regard for the reader? Continue reading

The Water We Seek

Not long ago I found one of poem by Rumi which I found to be inspiring and insightful.  It’s called The Water We Seek

The eye or the spirit that focuses on the transient
falls on its face wherever it goes.
Someone who focuses on the distance,
without knowledge, may see far,
but just as we do in a dream.

Asleep on the bank of a river, lips parched,
you dream you are running toward water.
In the distance you see the water of your desire
and, caught by your seeing, you run toward it.

In the dream you boast,
“I am the one whose heart can see through the veils.”
Yet every step carries you further away
toward the perilous mirage.

From the moment you dreamed you set out
you created the distance
from that which had been near to you.
Many set out on a journey
that leads them farther away from their goal.

The intuitive claims of the sleeper are a fantasy.
You, too, are sleepy; But for God’s sake,
if you must sleep, sleep on the Way of God,
and maybe some other seeker on the Way
will awaken you from your fantasies and slumber.

No matter how subtle the sleeper’s thought becomes,
his dreams will not guide him Home.
Whether the sleeper’s thought is twofold or threefold,
it is error multiplying error.

While he dreams of running through the wilderness,

the waves are lapping so near.

While he dreams of the pangs of thirst,

the water is nearer than his jugular vein.