Lift now the lid of the jar of heaven,
Pour, cupbearer, the wine of the invisible,
The name and sign of what has no sign.
Pour it abundantly.
It is you who enrich the soul–
Make the soul drunk and give it wings.
Come again always, rich one,
and teach all our cupbearers their sacred art.
Be a spring jetting from a heart of stone;
Break the pitcher of soul and body–
Make joyful all lovers of wine.
Ferment a restlessness in the heart
of the one who thinks only of bread–
Bread is a mason of the body’s prison;
Wine, a rain for the garden of the soul.
I’ve tied the ends of the earth together.
Lift now the lid of the jar of heaven
Close those eyes that see only faults
Contemplate those that only see the invisible
so no mosques or temples or idols remain
So this or that is drowned in his fire.
Rumi
sketchbloom.com 
Interesting poem. Not sure how the photo goes with it though…other than that it is partly a picture of the sky. I especially like the first line of the poem.
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Delana, thank you so much for your comment. The photo was taken from a shack on the beach: you can see its gate on the right…the photo to me was about ‘opening’…I hope this helps clarify a bit the image choice.
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Passionate poetry, deeply moving, touching the heart that it seeks to speak. Beautiful image!
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Have you noticed how in Rumi’s times it appears that everyone only ever ate bread, drank wine, and spoke in whispers to each other. I think I’d have rather enjoyed being one of his contemporaries.
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Definitely a kinder time!
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