MUSIC FROM THE REED 

Poem for Today - May 13, 2014

THE REED FLUTE

Listen to the story told by the reed,

of being separate.

“Since I was cut from the reedbed,

I have made this crying sound.

Anyone separated from someone he loves

understands what I say.

Anyone pulled from the source

longs to go back.

At any gathering I am there, mingling

in the laughing and the grieving,

A friend to each, but few

will hear the secrets hidden

within the notes. No ears for that.

Body flowing out of spirit,

spirit up from body. We can't conceal

that mixing, but it's not given us

to see the soul." The reed flute

is fire, not wind. Be nothing.

Hear the love-tangled

in the reed notes, as bewilderment

melts into wine. The reed is a friend

to all who want the fabric

torn and drawn away. The reed is

hurt and salve combining.

Intimacy and longing for

intimacy in one song.

A disastrous surrender,

and a fine love, together.

The one who secretly hears this

is senseless.

A tongue has one customer,

the ear.

The power of a cane flute comes

from its making sugar in the reedbed.

Whatever sound it has

is for everyone.

Days full of wanting, let them go by

without worrying that they do,

Stay where you are, inside

such a pure, hollow note.

© Rumi