Wait.

A TRACE

You that give new life to this planet,

you that transcend logic, come.

I am only an arrow.

Fill your bow with me and let fly.

Because of this love for you

my bowl has fallen from the roof.

Put down the ladder and collect the pieces, please.

People ask, but which roof is your roof?

I answer, Wherever the soul came from,

and wherever it goes at night, my roof is in that direction.

From wherever spring arrives to heal the ground,

from wherever searching rises in a human being.

The looking itself is a trace of what we are looking for,

but we have been more like the man who sat on his donkey

and asked the donkey where to go.

Be quiet now and wait.

It may be that the ocean one,

that we desire so to move into and become,

desires us out here on land a little longer

going our sundry roads to the shore.

Rumi