Bees, and Bees and Poetry

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Look how desire has changed in you,
how light and colorless it is,
with the world growing new marvels
because of your changing.
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Your soul has become an invisible bee.
We don’t see it working,
but there’s the full honeycomb.
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Your body’s height, six feet or so,
but your soul rises through nine levels of sky.
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A barrel corked with earth
and a raw wooden spile
keeps the oldest vineyard’s wine inside.
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When I see you,
it is not so much your physical form,
but the company of two riders,
your pure-fire devotion and your love
for the one who teaches you.
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Then the sun and moon on foot behind those.
-Rumi
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Originally Posted on Rumi Days

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