Even Rumi, who could fit the entire
universe inside his poem, was yearning
for the grace of the Beloved. The universe
is not enough. It cannot love us the way
we want love. Its miracles are just math.
What would language do, or poems, if
the poet did not suffer the anguish of
loving a sunset? The sky just is. The poem
reaches out to touch your cheek. The
words wipe your tears. The poet burns
in the orange light until he becomes the
darkness. The Beloved holds back the
wine. Love is only an empty tavern, the
sun has been extinguished and the stars
in the window will be gone by morning.
More poems in the “Universe” series on my instagram page: @tp_poetry Trying to pull them all together – soon.
THOUGHT PURGE 
Stunnung poem I love
“Love is only an empty tavern, the
sun has been extinguished and the stars
in the window will be gone by morning.”
Yes everything is fleeting
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Thanks so much Marja.
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I’m enjoying your universe series, Rajani! I like the way this poem starts with Rumi and then moves to the poet universally. These lines are wonderful:
‘…The poem
reaches out to touch your cheek. The
words wipe your tears…’
and
‘Love is only an empty tavern, the
sun has been extinguished and the stars
in the window will be gone by morning.’
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Thanks so much Kim. Mostly posting them on instagram though.
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kaykuala
Love is only an empty tavern, the
sun has been extinguished and the stars
in the window will be gone by morning
Love in many instances can be just temporary which is true!
Hank
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Thank you Hank.
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Magisterially compressed and the dialectic hones unerringly. Getting beyond math takes tables of yearning. I left however feeling a last line was missing, the one that sums up love as that which completes everything it cannot add together. Anyway — such admirable work.
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Thank you Brendan.. I love that thought on love!
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The universe has all the greatness of a giant void… which is the opposite of love isn’t it?
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Thank you Bjorn.
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But, oh… the wonder a poet can brew from stardeath to stardeath.
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Thank you Magaly.
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The anguish of loving a sunset…….wow! I believe this is the most beautiful of your poems. Stellar!
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Thank you Sherry.
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I love this. The poet burns in the orange light…. I often ponder the paradox of beauty and pain and the mix that yearning and beauty bring. I read that Rumi never wrote his words down but his followers/scribes did. An oral poet like the bards of Ireland.
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Yes, that’s what I’ve read too…the poems were compiled much later. Thanks Colleen.
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This was truly amazing. Really
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Thank you.
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Ah, such a rumination over love with this poetic sensibility is very charming. It brings to mind the many lovelorn poems, songs, and stories, that grip the heart like nothing else.
Loved this bit: “The Beloved holds back the/wine. Love is only an empty tavern…”
It reminds me of the many Arabic, Persian, and Urdu poets who created their romantic lore around wine and taverns.
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Thanks so much Anmol.
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My goodness this is beautiful!!❤️ I love “The poet burns in the orange light until he becomes the
darkness.” This poem is a thing of wonder and deserves to be sung!❤️
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Thank you Sanaa.
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All the intensity of the sun. Yes, one cannot use the precision found in math to describe love.
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Thank you Rommy.
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“What would language do, or poems, if
the poet did not suffer the anguish of
loving a sunset?”
“The poet burns
in the orange light until he becomes the
darkness.”
This is bloody brilliant.
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Thanks so much 🙂
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