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We’ve come again to that knee of seacoast
no ocean can reach.

Tie together all human intellects.
They won’t stretch to here.

The sky bares its neck so beautifully,
but gets no kiss. Only a taste.

This is the food that everyone wants,
wandering the wilderness,
“Please give us Your manna and quail.”

We’re here again with the Beloved.
This air, a shout.
These meadowsounds,
an astonishing myth.

We’ve come into the Presence of the One
who was never apart from us.

When the waterbag is filling,
you know the Water-carrier’s here!

The bag leans lovingly against Your shoulder.
“Without You I have no knowledge,
no way to touch anyone.”

When someone chews sugarcane,
he’s wanting this Sweetness.

Inside this globe the soul roars like thunder.
And now Silence, my strict tutor.
I won’t try to talk about Shams.

Language cannot touch that Presence.

Rumi

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