Love

Writing about Latif Bolat reminded me of Rumi, a thirteenth century Sufi poet, a man whose poetry, translated by Coleman Barks, speaks to my heart like it was written especially for me today.

It is the way I feel love, an ecstatic all encompassing passion that wraps around every strand of me like soulful DNA, so inextricably intertwined that no part of my life escapes the experience.

I see in you a beautiful rose lying in the sun ready to be plucked in every moment. I must fall into you, inhale the heady scent of your being from the inside out. I need to caress your silken petals and run my fingers through the lushness of you.

My Friend, your face flies before me, leading me, calling to me, hidden only by my own limitations. Every part of you is a channel into my own heart. The goodness of you sends me into reveries of delight. What other people might consider flaws become so endearing to me that I cannot imagine you without them.

I hold you up to the light and love shines through me. I see my reflection in your face and in the shadows on the wall and I am consumed.

Someone slams a door in your face and tears roll down my cheeks. Someone holds you close and tears pour from my eyes. Your pain and your joy are mine.

I am you and you are love.