Poetry & Shayari

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

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.

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.

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.

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

Because I could not stop for Death -

He kindly stopped for me -

The Carriage held but just Ourselves -

And Immortality.

We slowly drove - He knew no haste

And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,

For His Civility -