I am not working in ignorance

The grapes of my body can only become wine
after the winemaker tramples me.
I surrender my spirit like grapes to his trampling
so my innermost heart can blaze and dance with joy.
Although the grapes go on weeping blood and sobbing
‘I cannot bear any more anguish,
any more cruelty’
the trampler stuffs cotton in his ears:  I am not working in ignorance.
You can deny me if you want, you have every excuse.
But it is I who am the Master of this Work.
And when through my Passion you reach perfection,
you will never be done praising my name.

~ Rumi

10 thoughts on “I am not working in ignorance

  1. sigmaplanet says:

    This is how it seems sometimes. Do you write any poems yourself?

  2. buttercup600 says:

    Wow..what a powerful heartfelt poem..loved it:)

  3. D.S. Lear says:

    a vat of emotions stirred..nice work!

  4. dustus says:

    Very deep and motivating. Makes me think of an artist submitting to the craft itself out of respect.

  5. madbluewings says:

    Thanks for your reading, friends. And please note, this is Rumi’s craft, not mine…


  6. suzicate says:

    The grapes of my body can only become wine
    after the winemaker tramples me.
    Love this line…great imagery and emotion, fantastic.

  7. Jingle says:

    what delicious poem!

  8. Alexis says:

    Rumi moves me every time. So profound.

  9. Thomas says:

    Ahh, the profound trust of: ignorance? what-ignorance? And what courage. And beinghereness. Little whisper in my ear: I am in whats I am, all the whats, always and through.

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