Are you lonely? Spoke the sun.

Are you lonely? Spoke the sun.

Your back is bent

And you walk on roses that are dried and wizened.

You lift not your head to seek the kindness of my smile.

What troubles you, old man?

I must be hearing things, said the despondent one.

Now even the sun talks to me, mocks me, even.

I mock you not, old man,

I say, look, here’s the pathway.

It is to kindness, it is to rich blue skies across oceans of forgiveness,

It is to the door, the very golden door of the Beloved most high!

I’ve had too much sun, thought the lost soul.

Only the opposite is true, spoke the heavenly body.

You’ve not had enough!

Rumi