Wanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving.
It doesn’t matter.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow
a thousand times
Come, yet again, come, come. ” –Rumi
I love this poem. I feel the sacredness of the words, the ethereal and ancient messages encrypted in them. And if I close my eyes, I can almost see a sacred fire burning, ashes swirling, spewing their holy intent —come, come–into the wind.
This exquisite poem was written by 13th-century Persian poet and Sufi mystic, Rumi, who wrote endlessly of his love for the Divine. In this poem he reminds us that no matter who we are, no matter what the circumstance, we can find our way back to our divine spirit.
That’s good news because the truth is, there are thousands of ways we abandon ourselves, abandon our spirits, sell our souls for security, peace, prestige, or any number of illusions. Sound familiar?
Sometimes I abandon what I know. I wander away from myself. Sometimes, I am a lover of leaving . . .myself.
But I am finding the older I get, the less I wander. And the more I wonder.
I like to imagine what it would be like to live inside a Rumi poem. To feel like a Rumi poem… estatic, washed pure by a holy fire of grace.
Imagine with me, no matter how many times we’ve broken our vows, our resolutions, our intentions….we could start over on our journey to find our authentic selves, our divine spirits. Imagine that no matter how many times we’ve abandoned ourselves, our dreams, our passions, we could find our home again and within ourselves, the place where divinity permanently resides.
Come, come . . . imagine it.