Hafiz is my inspiration this morning:
What do sad people
have in common?
have in common?
it seems they have all built
a shrine to the past.
And often go there and
do a strange wail and worship.
what is the beginning of happiness?
It is to stop being so religious
like
that.
I want to give up this religion of melancholy, but the shrine is so quiet and lovely here by myself. Is it an addiction (again) or am I sanctifying the space and honoring the rest?
Perhaps it doesn’t matter. My Dear One is with me–either giggling compassionately in her scarf at my silliness, or holding me and rocking me to and fro to Her lullabye love.