rumi

Gone to the Unseen

At last you have departed and gone to the Unseen.
What marvelous route did you take from this world?

Beating your wings and feathers,
you broke free from this cage.
Rising up to the sky
you attained the world of the soul.
You were a prized falcon trapped by an Old Woman.
Then you heard the drummer’s call
and flew beyond space and time.

As a lovesick nightingale, you flew among the owls.
Then came the scent of the rosegarden
and you flew off to meet the Rose.

The wine of this fleeting world
caused your head to ache.
Finally you joined the tavern of Eternity.
Like an arrow, you sped from the bow
and went straight for the bull’s eye of bliss.

This phantom world gave you false signs
But you turned from the illusion
and journeyed to the land of truth.

You are now the Sun –
what need have you for a crown?
You have vanished from this world –
what need have you to tie your robe?

I’ve heard that you can barely see your soul.
But why look at all? –
yours is now the Soul of Souls!

O heart, what a wonderful bird you are.
Seeking divine heights,
Flapping your wings,
you smashed the pointed spears of your enemy.

The flowers flee from Autumn, but not you –
You are the fearless rose
that grows amidst the freezing wind.

Pouring down like the rain of heaven
you fell upon the rooftop of this world.
Then you ran in every direction
and escaped through the drain spout . . .

Now the words are over
and the pain they bring is gone.
Now you have gone to rest
in the arms of the Beloved.

one year later

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles
In laughter, in strife

In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life

How about love?
How about love?
How about love?

Measure in love
Seasons of love
Seasons of love

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Journeys to plan
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure the life
Of a woman or a man?

In truths that she learned
Or in times that he cried
In bridges he burned
Or the way that she died

It’s time now to sing out
Tho’ the story never ends
Let’s celebrate
Remember a year in the life of friends

Remember the love
Remember the love
Remember the love

Measure in love
Measure, measure your life in love

Seasons of love
Seasons of love

Written by Jonathan D. Larson • Copyright © Universal Music Publishing Group

B S U R

“B. S. U. R.”

She’s been holding on too long hoping I’m gonna change.
Giving it up just a little bit more each time I come home, looking and acting strange.
Putting her down for putting up with me.

Be as you are, as you see, as I am, I am. Be as you are, as you see, as I am, I am.

Do you think you might improve me, trying to take control?
Watching every little thing I do just like a bleeding movie, just like a leading role?
Mama, this ain’t me and I don’t believe that’s you.

Be as you are, as you see, as I am, I am. Be as you are, as you see, as I am, I am.

First you make believe, I believe the things that you make believe
and I’m bound to let you down.
Then it’s I who have been deceiving, purposely misleading,
and all along you believed in me.

So we circle around one another playing I guessing game, strangers at this masquerade.
Pretending to know each other, we strain to catch a name
and never see the mistakes we must have made.

Be as you are, as you see, as I am, I am. Be as you are, as you see, as I am, I am.

JAMES TAYLOR

as u wish

well here we r
once again
u reach out
publicly of course

see me
feel me
touch me
heal me

charged with crimes
malice and misdeeds
menacing madness
u somehow survived

u didnt get ur way
so again – u walked out
with no longing backward glance
u lobbed another grenade

BOOM
A CLAP OF THUNDER
always a parting gift
U NEVER LOVED ME!

now u resurface
after months of nothing
selling stories
of how bad it was for u

for you

doing the same thing
over n over
expecting different results
that’s insanity

life is hard child
choices have consequences
u think i suck
got it – its on the record

u want nothing to do with me
ok – done
but when low on cash –
or rage envelops u

what will u do
with no tabloids to call
no one to blame
but u

but u

perhaps chelsea ur right
in every way i failed u
u r not ill after all
define urself

as u wish

dear louise

chelsea is mentally ill
has been in and out of hospitals most of her life
born addicted to heroin –
she has had a tough road

as for her comments –
i assume u r paying her –
which is why she is selling these tales to you
unfounded – untrue – and desperate

do what you like louise –
as this is the job u have

but know
she is very sick
she is not capable of truth or reason

she has not been in touch with anyone
since her husband tried to extort 9000 dollars from this family
the day after the lesion in her frontal lobe was detected

she then did an inside edition interview for money
and disappeared

and now has a story for u

as a mother – my request is that u not pay her
and leave her alone
as her self hatred grows
after each sold lie

it is comforting to know
she is still alive

so thank you for that part

if u use any of this e mail in ur story
i request it is in its entirety

rosie