Friday, July 8, 2011

I don't get tired of you.  Don't grow weary
of being compassionate toward me!


All this thirst equipment 
must surely be tired of me, 
the waterjar, the water carrier.


I have a thirsty fish in me
that can never find enough 
of what it's thirsty for!


Show me the way to the ocean!
Break these half-measures,
these small containers.


All this fantasy
and grief.


Let my house be drowned in the wave
that rose last night out of the courtyard
hidden in the center of my chest.

Rumi

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