A shout comes out of my room
where I’ve been cooped up.
After all my lust and dead living
I can still live with you.
You want me to.
You fix and bring me food.
You forget the way I’ve been.
The ocean moves and surges in the heat
of the middle of the day,
in the heat of this thought I’m having.
Why aren’t all human resistances
burning up with this thought?
It is a drum and arms waving.
It is a bonfire at midnight on the top edge of a hill,
this meeting again with you.
—Rumi
