.
Lord, the air smells good today,
straight from the mysteries
within the inner courts of God.
A grace like new clothes thrown
across the garden,
free medicine for everybody.
The trees in their prayer,
the birds in praise
the first blue violets kneeling.
Whatever came from Being
is caught up in being,
drunkenly forgetting the way back.
—Jelaluddin Rumi
.
The time of judging
Who is drunk or sober,
Who is right and who is wrong,
Who is closer to god, and who is farther away,
All that is over.
This caravan is led instead by a great delight,
The simple joy that sits with us now.
That is the grace.
—Hafiz
.
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