A poem By Rumi

I start out on this road,

Call it love or emptiness. I only know what's not here.

Resentment seeds, back scratching greed, worrying about the outcome, fear of people......

When a bird gets free,
it does not go back for remnants left on the bottom of the cage.


Close by, I am rain. Far off,
a cloud of fire. I seem restless,but I am deeply at ease.

Branches tremble. The roots are still.
I am a universe in a handful of dirt,
whole when totally demolished.

Talk about choices that do not apply to me.
While I consider only Rational options,
I am somewhere lost in the wind.