Where Does the Dance Begin, Where Does It End?

3_the-sun-and-the-dragonfly-and-me

The sun the dragonfly and me – by linaji

Don’t call this world adorable, or useful, that’s not it.
It’s frisky, and a theater for more than fair winds.
The eyelash of lightning is neither good nor evil.
The struck tree burns like a pillar of gold.
But the blue rain sinks, straight to the white
feet of the trees
whose mouths open.
Doesn’t the wind, turning in circles, invent the dance?
Haven’t the flowers moved, slowly, across Asia, then Europe,
until at last, now, they shine
in your own yard?
Don’t call this world an explanation, or even an education.
When the Sufi poet whirled, was he looking
outward, to the mountains so solidly there
in a white-capped ring, or was he looking
to the center of everything: the seed, the egg, the idea
that was also there,
beautiful as a thumb
curved and touching the finger, tenderly,
little love-ring,
as he whirled,
oh jug of breath,
in the garden of dust

-Mary Oliver

 

 

 

 

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Posted by | Paul Reynolds
In addition to teaching yoga on the Island of Kauai, Paul is the facilitator of the Living the Question Blog - a repository of wisdom and inspiration. Paul also produces and hosts the weekly Le Guru is You Radio Show, showcasing everyday gurus.

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