cup and ocean
These forms we seem to be are cups floating in an ocean
of living consciousness.
They fill and sink without leaving an arc of bubbles or
any good-bye spray. What we
are is that ocean, too near to see, though we swim in it
And drink it in. Don’t
be a cup with a dry rim, or someone who rides all night
and never knows the horse
beneath his thighs, the surging that carries him along.
—The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems