I start out on this road, call it
love or emptiness. I only know what's
not here: resentment seeds, back-
scratching greed, worrying about out-
come, fear of people. When a bird gets
free, it doesn't go back for remnants
left on the bottom of the cage! Close
by, I'm the rain. Far off, a cloud of fire.
I seem restless, but I am deeply at ease.
Branches tremble; the roots are still.
I am a universe in a handful of dirt,
whole when totally demolished. Talk
about choices does not apply to me.
While intelligence considers options,
I am somewhat lost in the wind.
by Rumi
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