Poetry has never been my thing, as I have always been in too much of a rush to read it slowly, fully and with appreciation. But a few years ago I discovered a gorgeous little book of poetry that really captured my attention and heart. So much so, that I had to ration myself to reading just one poem a day, not wanting to get to the end.
This is one of the poems that I keep returning to I can’t articulate why, but I find it beautiful and optimistic.
If one were to tell an unborn child that
outside the womb there is a glorious world
with green fields and lush gardens
high mountains and vast seas, with a sky
lit by the sun and the moon, the unborn
would not believe such absurdity.
Still in the dark womb how could he imagine the indescribable majesty of this world?
In the same way, when the mystics speak of worlds
beyond scent and colour, the common man
deafened by greed and blinded by self-interest
cannot grasp their reality.
from Rumi’s Little Book of Life
The Garden of the Soul, the Heart, and the Spirit