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Listen to the unstruck sounds, and what sifts through that music.
-Rumi
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Listen To The Unstruck Sounds, And What

Rumi
Listen to the unstruck sounds, and what sifts through that music.
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Sound

More From Rumi

Music is my life. music runs through my veins. music inspires me. music is a part of me. music is all around us. music soothes me. music gives me hope when i lose faith. music comforts me. music is my refuge.
Inspirational Running Giving
How do you listen? do you listen with your projections, through your projection, through your ambitions, desire, fears, anxieties, through hearing only what you want to hear, only what will be satisfactory, what will gratify, what will give comfort, what will for the moment alleviate your suffering? if you listen through the screen of your desires, then you obviously listen to your own voice.
Healing Ambition Voice
When music sounds, gone is the earth i know, and all her lovelier things even lovelier grow; her flowers in vision flame, her forest trees lift burdened branches, stilled with ecstasies. when music sounds, out of the water rise naiads whose beauty dims my waking eyes, rapt in strange dream burns each enchanted face, with solemn echoing stirs their dwelling-place. when music sounds, all that i was i am ere to this haunt of brooding dust i came; and from time's woods break into distant song the swift-winged hours, as i hasten along.
Dream Song Flower
Music means communication to me. i say 'listen you people out there, listen to my music, let's be one.' music is a friend to me when i am lonely, when i am blue. you can't define music 'cause music is cosmos and it knows no barrier or definition. you have to feel music to dig it.
Lonely Communication Mean
When the cold comes to new england it arrives in sheets of sleet and ice. in december, the wind wraps itself around bare trees and twists in between husbands and wives asleep in their beds. it shakes the shingles from the roofs and sifts through cracks in the plaster. the only green things left are the holly bushes and the old boxwood hedges in the village, and these are often painted white with snow. chipmunks and weasels come to nest in basements and barns; owls find their way into attics. at night,the dark is blue and bluer still, as sapphire of night.
Husband Dark Night
Blue is the insides of something mysterious and lonely. i'd look at fish and birds, thinking the sky and water colored them. the first abyss is blue. an artist must go beyond the mercy of satin or water-from a gutty hue to that which is close to royal purple. all seasons and blossoms inbetween. lavender. theatrical and outrageous electric. almost gray. true and false blue. water and oil. the gas jet breathing in oblivion. the unstruck match. the blue of absence. the blue of deep presence. the insides of something perfect.
Lonely Thinking Artist
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Sometimes i would get invited to a party or to go out to dinner by one of them and i would decline. part of me wanted to go, but those kind of outings always made me feel even more alienated than usual. hearing them talk made me feel lonely and hateful at the same time. lonely because i didn't fit in, never did. when i was reminded, it hurt. and hateful because it reaffirmed what i already knew, that i was alone and on the outside.
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