‘My Beloved, <br />what can I give you of myself, <br />that I have not given? ’ <br /> <br />My Beloved said <br /> <br />‘O my dearest one, <br />in all places, at all times, <br />remember Me.’ <br /> <br />‘O My Beloved, <br />how can I not do that? ’ <br /> <br />* * * <br /> <br />In tears, I returned to My Beloved <br />and said <br /> <br />‘O my dearest one, <br />a week has passed, and the world <br />pressed hard upon me… <br /> <br />‘The next day, I remembered You <br />three times each hour; <br />the second day, I remembered You <br />but once an hour; <br />on the third day, I remembered You <br />in some hours, once; some twice; <br />some not at all… and so it went… <br /> <br />But O My Beloved, <br />each morning as I woke <br />I remembered through my tears <br />how I had forgotten You…’ <br /> <br />My Beloved said <br /> <br />‘In the remembering of the forgetting <br />there was a feast of sweetest honey for Me, <br />hiding like a new young bride <br />laughing with her bridegroom, <br />laughing with her eyes on Him, <br />in the silken tent of love.’<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-spirit-of-rumi-7/
