Let the air come in and circulate
Just listen, for instance, to that lone field sparrow
And sings a bit more loudly than the rest.
That song is a bit of something,
Which comes to us all, just like every season.
All that simple song turning into
Ambient noise to be brushed aside,
Along with the sounds of traffic,
Which themselves are a kind of peace
In the world continuing if you listen.
How strange it is that sounds and colours
Can be so equally intense, how every feature seems
To take on some monumental significance
When viewed from either side of love
And though the daylight extends its arms
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, language, even the phrase each other
doesn't make any sense. ~ Rumi