Talking in the night

Raffi and I were up before daybreak today, There was a mistiness and chill in the air. The sun was struggling through the mist and the landscape was drained of it's usual vibrancy.  Our walk out to the tower was filled with a feeling of new beginings and as we sat on the cliff waiting for the sun a Rumi poem came into my head. This is then dedicated to someone where a new understanding would be good. I shall just sit here and wait for the metaphorical mist to burn off.

Talking in the Night 

In the middle of the night, I cried out,
 “Who lives in this love I have?”
 You said, “I do, but I’m not here alone. Why are these other images with me?”
 I said, “They are reflections of you, just as the beautiful inhabitants of Chigil in Turkestan resemble each other.
” You said, “But who is this other living being?”
 “That is my wounded soul.” Then I brought that soul to you as a prisoner.
 “This one is dangerous,” I said. “Don’t let him off easy.”
You winked and gave me one end of a delicate thread.
 “Pull it tight, but don’t break it.”
 I reached my hand to touch you. You struck it down.
“Why are you so harsh with me?”
“For good reason. But certainly not to keep you away! Whoever enters this place saying Here I am must be slapped.
This is not a pen for sheep.
There are no separating distances here.
This is love’s sanctuary.
Saladin is how the soul looks. Rub your eyes, and look again with love at love.”

Jelaluddin Rumi


I came back and painted this small 30 x 30 cm painting with this in mind. Have a nice day.