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Image of the quote is loading... SaveSave I am the servant of the Qur’an, for as long as I have a soul. I am the dust on the road of Muhammad, the Chosen One. If someone interprets my words in any other way, That person I deplore, and I deplore his words. - Quote by Jalaluddin Rumi

I am the servant of the Qur’an, for as long as I have a soul. I am the dust on the road of Muhammad, the Chosen One. If someone interprets my words in any other way, That person I deplore, and I deplore his words.

Jalaluddin Rumi
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I break out laughing. I frown.I yell and scream. Sometimes,if one jokes and giggles,one causes war.So I hide how tickled I am.Tears well up in my eyes.My body is a large city.Much grieving in one sector.I live in another part.Lakewater.Something on fire over here.I am sour when you are sour,sweet when you are sweet.You are my face and my back.Only through you can I knowthis back-scratching pleasure.Now people the likes of you and Icome clapping, inventing dances,climbing into this high meadow.I am a spoiled parrot who eats only candy.I have no interest in bitter food.Some have been given harsh knowledge. Not I.Some are lame and jerking along.I am smooth and glidingly quick.Their road is full of washed-out placesand long inclines. Mine isroyally level, effortless.The huge Jerusalem mosque stands inside me,and women full of light.Laughter leaps out.It is the nature of the rose to laugh.It cannot help but laugh.
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There is a voice that doesn’t use words. Listen.
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The wit taught by God to the beeIs withheld from the lion and the wild ass.
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Your faces are very beautiful,but they are wooden cages.You had better run from me.My words are fire.
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Christian, Jew, Muslim, shaman, Zoroastrian, stone, ground, mountain, river, each has a secret way of being with the mystery, unique and not to be judged
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My lips got lost on the way to the kiss - that's how drunk Iwas.
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Die! Die! Die in this love!If you die in this love,Your soul will be renewed. Die! Die! Don’t fear the death of that which is knownIf you die to the temporal, You will become timeless.
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The lover's ailment is separate from all other ailments: love is the astrolabe of the mysteries of God.
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