My favourite Rumi poetry

My favourite

I really needed to take a break from studying for my exam on Thursday. My brain feels like a ball of fuzz.

The other evening, I was in the living room with Sean, my roommate. And in my sleepy-brain-fuzzy-haze, I put the lights out in the room and then casually sat down to eat dinner (in the dark). Sean got up and put the light back on. I felt like something weird had just happened, I asked “Did I just….put the lights off?!” It was so funny! We laughed about that for a while. The strangest thing is that I did it AGAIN later that night! Haha.

So, given my history of doing weird things when tired, I think it is best I do take a break from studying.

Instead, I want to share with you some of my most loved quotes and poems by the Sufi poet/mystic Rumi.

This collection moves me and speaks to parts of me that are unspoken. That is poetry. It is interesting to me that while I love to write and document my life through prose and journalling, some of the most beautiful or haunting things that have happened to me are best expressed as poetry. I wonder why that is.

Sometimes you hear a voice
through the door calling you
As a fish out of water
hears the waves
Come back. Come back.
This turning towards what
you love deeply saves you.


Let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really are.


Inside this new love, Die.

Your way begins on the other side.

Become the sky.

Take an ax to the prison wall.

Escape. Walk out

like someone suddenly born into colour,

Do it now.

You’re covered with thick cloud.

Slide out the side. Die,

and be quiet. Quietness is the surest

sign that you’ve died.

Your old life was a frantic running 

from silence.

The speechless full moon comes out now.


The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.

Don’t go back to sleep.


My heart is so small

it’s almost invisible.

How can You place 

such big sorrows in it?

“Look” He answered,

“your eyes are even smaller,

yet they behold the world”


Let yourself become living poetry.


I don’t want learning,

or dignity, or


I want this music,

and this dawn, 

and the warmth 

of your cheek

against mine.


You were born with wings, why do you prefer to crawl through life?


Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,

there is a field. I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,

the world is too full to talk about

Ideas or language,

even the phrase “each other” doesn’t make any sense.


I have also added a new page to this blog: Poetry & Prose where I will post some of my own verses. Are there any poets amongst my readers, or any poets you love?



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