This body lasts about as long as a bubble may as well let it go things don’t often go as we wish who can step back doesn’t worry we blossom and fade like flowers we gather and part like clouds I stopped thinking about the world a long time ago relaxing all day in a teetering hut

Poetry possesses many secrets just waiting to be revealed to patient seekers of truth. I love to meditate on a line just before drifting off to sleep.

Poetry became Rumi’s belonging to the world, and in turn created a place of belonging for others to recognize themselves in.

Only make sure the three lines make the mind leap. “The only real measure of a haiku,” Allen told us that one hot July afternoon, “is upon hearing one, your mind experiences a small sensation of space” — he paused; I leaned in, breathless — “which is nothing less than God.”