those who feel like home

A sea of people,
Yet only very few feel like home.
Some we knew from when we were children,
Afraid to speak, but had a companionship of the heart.

And now, a sea separates one from those who feel like home.

For some, it is more an ocean.
For others, it is a mountain of everlasting silence, never to be broken.

Love never to be declared.

A Sufi is everlastingly grateful for everything ever denied. The secret is a deep one, filled with profundity. We can live a very surface based existence, following passions, lusts, whims, laws, fashions, the mind and intellect.

Until one day, the soul is overburdened by the denial of truth, and states firmly: enough.

We continue to deny in order to purify.

Your first love is your divine Creator. The secrets within this Love will burn your wings, and your sight will also be sacrificed.

But within you, your heart will unfurl, the cage around it will shatter. Everything you have lost, including your dignity and your sanity, can truly be restored in a wholesome way.

The whispered prayer of the one most in need will resume to be asked within the hallowed halls of the saintly tombs.

But the meaning is now entirely different.

We ask for a continuous audience with God.

Anything else is paltry and a pretty mirage.

Somehow each gives the appearance of the other | Rumi

God’s presence is there in front of me,
a fire on the left, a lovely stream on the right.
One group walks toward the fire, into the fire,
another toward the sweet flowing water.
No one knows which are blessed and which not.
Whoever walks into the fire
appears suddenly in the stream.
A head goes under on the water surface,
that head pokes out of the fire.
Most people guard against going into the fire,
and so end up in it.
Those who love the water of pleasure, and make
it their devotion, are cheated with this reversal.
The trickery goes further.
The voice of the fire tells the truth,
saying, “I am not fire. I am fountainhead.
Come into me and don’t mind the sparks.”
If you are a friend of God, fire is your water.
You should wish to have
a hundred thousand sets of mothwings,
so you could burn them away, one set a night.
The moth sees light and goes into fire.
You should see fire and go toward light.
Fire is what of God is world-consuming.
Water, world-protecting.
Somehow each gives the appearance of the other.
To these eyes you have now what looks like water burns.
What looks like fire is a great relief to be inside.
- Rumi