Sunday, November 13, 2011

RUMI'S DOOR - Love in all its Infinite Manifestations

18. By all accounts!
I told my love that she,
Is not the answer
To my prayers.

How can she be, when
By all accounts, she
Is so much more
Than my feeble
Heart could ever
Imagine and
Pray for?

There is nothing to make,
There is nothing to unmake,

She simply is
As she is, as
I found her, when
I barged in
Rumi's door.

So recorded the sinner in February 2010. But this was not the first time I darkened Rumi's threshold. Earlier in mid 2004, the prose below was archived for prosperity.

80. The Host, the Doorkeeper and the Guest
Come to me, my friend,
When words become meaningless,
Voices become soundless,
And the prose of men, all but useless.

Come to me,
When you have learned,
That more is less,
And less is more.

Then we shall see what baubles you have to trade,
With me, at Rumi’s door.

It is not a question of who is best.
But between us,
Who is less?

What now have you to say to the Host?

Annihilate! Annihilate!
Forgive me, O’ Lord!
For this guest has arrived late!

This is what happens when you get old(er). The line between worlds blur. You are still alive and walking (kicking too), but you also feel your mortality and anticipate death. You go to sleep weary and wake up thinking, "Hey, whaddaya know, still alive today!" But then you limber out of bed and feel perhaps a little ache in places where there were no aches before. Then you ruefully contemplate, "Maybe tomorrow won't come for me." When you think about it, life and death are really just a question of perspectives.

Apart from life and death, love also merges as you grow old. Time uniting the romantic, familial, brotherly and divine manifestations of love. Sometimes you capitalise love as 'Love' when you write about Divine Love of God. But frankly, it is just adapting to the form that people are used to. For love has no boundaries, and love for your lover, your father and mother, brothers and sisters, your children, your friends, your dog, your cat or parakeet all flow from God's Own Contemplation in Love for us, His Creation.

I kinda figured that Jelaludin Rumi was eminently aware of this. Such are truths that you may find at Rumi's Door.

God bless you, sunshine. Have a restful Sunday.

Hate has no place in Islam.

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