Poems reach up like spindrift and the edge of driftwood along the beach, wanting! They derive from a slow and powerful root that we can’t see. Stop the words now. Open the window in the center of your chest, and let the spirits fly in and out. – Rumi, as interpreted by Coleman Barks

What does this patch-sewing mean you ask? Eating and drinking. The heavy cloak of the body is always getting torn. You patch it with food and other ego-satisfactions. – Rumi

And don’t think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter. It’s quiet, but the roots are down there riotous. – Rumi

Your legs will get heavy and tired. Then comes a moment of feeling the wings you’ve grown, lifting. – Rumi