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Poetry of original by Alāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī
‘I was going to tell you my story’
I was going to tell you my story but waves of pain drowned my voice. I tried to utter a word but my thoughts became fragile and shattered like glass. Even the largest ship can capsize in the stormy sea of love, let alone my feeble boat which shattered to pieces leaving me nothing but a strip of wood to hold on to. Small and helpless, rising to heaven on one wave of love and falling with the next I don’t even know if I am or I am not. When I think I am, I find myself worthless, when I think I am not, I find my value. Like my thoughts, I die and rise again each day so how can I doubt the resurrection? Tired of hunting for love in this world at last I surrender in the valley of love and become free.
Poetry by composer, based on above.
I was going to tell you my story… (after Rumi)
I was going to tell you my story but it suddenly seemed unimportant. It seemed impossible to tell.
Milestones merged in dust-clouds of memory Truth waved this and that way, Black-outs, white-outs highlighted no shadows for the free voice to play.
I wanted to tell you my story in a single out-breath or heart-beat drum in a listening space where kindness lived, but I didn’t know who’d hear it or how the story would come.
The story-line of everything – I leave it be.
I cannot place right value on this many threads cannot see the fabric or the ways it spreads cannot blend both sight and shade or know which graces to parade….
There is no new lesson, no morality tale…
I allow myself to fail.
I was going to tell you my story but I touched my face with my hand
took a single in-breath and said
I don’t have to… yet …I hope you understand.
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