“God in the Stew”
Is there a human mouth that does not give out soul sound?
Is there love, a drawing together of any kind,
that is not sacred?
Every natural dog sniffs God in the stew.
The lion’s paw trembles like the rose petal.
He senses the ultimate spear coming.
In the shepherd’s majesty wolves and lambs tease each other.
Look inside your mind. Do you hear the crowd gathering?
Help coming, every second.
Still you cover your eyes with mud.
Watch the horned owl. Wash your face.
Anyone who steps into an orchard
walks inside the orchard keeper.
Milions of love-tents bloom on the plain.
A star in your chest says, None of this is outside you.
Close your lips and let the maker of mouths talk,
the one who says things.
Rumi, I love it.