A Sip of Rosewater

When Abu Bakr met Mohammad, he said,
“This is not a face that lies.”

Abu Bakr was one whose bowl
Has fallen from the roof.

There’s no hiding the fragrance that comes
From an ecstatic. A polished mirror
Cannot help reflecting.

Muhammad once was talking to a crowd
Of chieftains, princes with great influence,
When a poor blind man interrupted him.

Muhammad frowned and said to the man,
“Let me attend to these visitors.
This is a rare chance,
Whereas you are already my friend.
We’ll have ample time.”

Then someone nearby said, “That blind man
May be worth a hundred kings. Remember
The proverb, Human beings are mines.”

World-power means nothing. Only the unsayable,
Jeweled inner life matters.

Muhammad replied, “Do not think that I’m concerned
With being acknowledged by these authorities.

If a beetle moves towards rosewater, it proves
That the solution is diluted. Beetles
Love dung, not rose essence.

If a coin is eager to be rested
By the touchstone, that coin
Itself may be a touchstone.

A thief loves the night.
I am day. I reveal essences.

A calf thinks God is a cow.
A donkey’s theology changes
When someone new pets it
And gives it what it wants.

I am not a cow, or thistles for camels
To browse on. People who insult me
Are only polishing the mirror.”

The immortal Rumi, in his 13th century thoughts, opens windows where consciousness waits to express other qualities of itself. Rumi, like most of us, uses his religion to express his beliefs about the reality that he called his. Every man lives a reality created by beliefs and perceptions. When those beliefs and perceptions are expanded other metal enzymes create forms of consciousness that dip into hidden dimensions and realities. Like the calf who thinks the cow is God, we expand in awareness and sense the God that lives within us. Every aspect of energy that swirls in this moment gives us what we want.

Rumi quotes Muhammad, but it’s not Muhammad talking, it’s Rumi’s inner consciousness spewing energy, and creating a reality to experience. A thief does love the night and during the day the thief finds a path filled with separation and fear. That path is our path, until we realize that we are a beetle that loves rosewater and dung in the same moment. We hold a mirror up to reality and wait for others to polish it, when we create the fog.