Although I am usually either geometric or reflective on Saturdays, I am recuperating from a bad case of bronchitis that left me with a cracked rib and memories of strange half-waking dreams when photos I was taking came to life.
So here's a change of routine: a slightly surreal photo of purple flowers in Copenhagen that looks like something out of my cough-wracked dreams, and a few lines from the great Sufi poet Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks.
Don't ask questions about longing.
Look in my face.
Soul drunk, body ruined, these two
sit helpless in a wrecked wagon.
Neither knows how to fix it.
And my heart, I'd say it was more
like a donkey sunk in a mudhole,
struggling and miring deeper.
But listen to me: for one moment,
quit being sad. Hear blessings
dropping their blossoms
around you. God.
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