Intoxicated by Rumi's spiritual wine

I simply adore the Persian poet Rumi. His words have the ability to cut straight through my heart, piercing it with the subtle arrows of the most sublime transcendental passion and devotion. I recently read a fantastic novel called 'Rumi's Daughter' by Muriel Maufrey, which is based on Rumi's life and tells the story of Rumi and Shams (the wandering wild holy man who captured his heart and consequently caused him to write volumes upon volumes of divine poetry and stories) through the voice of Kimya, his young disciple and spiritual daughter. It's one of those books that managed to take my breath away because it touched me so deeply. I had to put it down ever so often to fully receive and appreciate the beauty and depth of the words. It staid with me for a long time after I read it, lingering in my soul like a delicate fragrance. Rumi was a true Bhakti Yogi, living his life for love and love alone, with the utmost devotion.

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Right now, I dip in and out of a wonderful translation of his poetry called 'Love's Ripening - Rumi on the heart's journey' by Kabir Helminski and Ahmad Rezwani. One of my favourite poems is

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'My Life Is through Dying'

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My religion is

to live through Love:

a life created from my own

small mind and self

would be a disgrace.

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The blade of Love cuts away

what covers the lover's soul;

Love's sword severs sins.

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When the bodily grime is gone,

a shining moon appears:

Spirit's moon in a wide-open sky.

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I've beat this drum of Love

for so long, for you whom I adore,

singing: 'My life depends upon my dying.'

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This keeps my body and soul alive.

I dream but I do not sleep.

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This seagull fears no shipwreck.

Her feet love to touch the Ocean.

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Mathnawi VI, 4059-4064