Love is a madnam,
Working his wild schemes.
Tearing off his clothes,
Running through the mountains, drinking poisons,
And now quietly choosing annihilation.
There are love stories,
And there is obliteration into love.
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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 and language, even the phrase 'each other'
Doesn't make any sense.
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The minute I heard my first love story
I started looking for you, not knowing
How blind that was.
Lovers don't finally meet somewhere.
They're in each other all along.
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Essential Rumi
by Coleman Barks
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