Poetry & Shayari

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.

Come, come, whoever you are.

Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving.

It doesn't matter.

Ours is not a caravan of despair.

Come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times.

Come, yet again, come, come.

Not Christian or Jew or Muslim, not Hindu

Buddhist, sufi, or zen. Not from any religion

or cultural system.

I am not from the East or the West,

not out of the ocean or up from the ground,

not natural or ethereal, not composed

of elements at all.

I belong to the Beloved, have seen the two worlds as one

and that one call to and know,

first, last, outer, inner, only that

breath breathing human being.

The wound is the place where the Light enters you.

Do not feel lonely, the entire universe is inside you.

Let yourself be silently drawn

by the strange pull of what you really love.

It will not lead you astray.

Love is the water of life.

Drink it down, let it drown you.

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.

Out beyond wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I will 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 does not make any sense.