{random poetry #27}




What is your life about, anyway?
Nothing but a struggle to be someone.
Nothing but a running from your own silence.



Let the lover be disgraceful, crazy,
absentminded. Someone sober
will worry about things going badly.
Let the lover be.



[ This We Have Now ]

This we have now
is not imagination.

This is not 
grief or joy.

Not a judging state,
or an elation,
or sadness.

Those come and go. 
This is the presence that doesn't.




[ Rumi ]