When the rose is gone and the garden faded
you will no longer hear the nightingale's song.
The Beloved is all; the lover just a veil.
The Beloved is living; the lover a dead thing.
If love withholds its strengthening care,
the lover is left like a bird without care,
the lover is left like a bird without wings.
How will I be awake and aware
if the light of the Beloved is absent?
Love wills that this Word be brought forth.
- Rose Poetry by Rumi
No mirror ever became iron again;
No bread ever became wheat;
No ripened grape ever became sour fruit.
Mature yourself and be secure
from a change for the worse.
Become the light.
What was said to the rose that made
it open was said to me here in my chest.
Love is like a rose.
It looks beautiful
on the outside...
but there is always
pain hidden somewhere.