patches of shade the sun has not struck,
but mostly this universe is transformed.
Every star has become the evening star.
Every soul, a king with no flag or parapet
to shield him from direct light.
Go within and discover this land
where everyone is a living soul
under a wide, sky-field with a king entering
from the other side, a jubilee, a singing
where wine and dessert and the other thing
are given away.
Last night I was out of myself.
If I were that way again, I could finish
this poem, but I'm not.
My poet-self is a protective pawn
put before the king, who is Shams,
whose light changes every being to an ocean,
and every body to a coral reef.
-- Jalalludin Rumi --