When Thou pour'st me on the world, It blows in beauty, all Divine.

Excerpt

Thou crushest me to drops of Rose Nor 'neath the press do I repine. In Thy sweet Pain is pain forgot; For I, Thy Rose, had this design. Thou bad'st me blossom on Thy Robe, And mad'st me for all eyes Thy sign. And when Thou pour'st me on the world, It blows in beauty, all Divine.

Source Rûmî, Divan (Davis), “Thy Rose” · 📖 Read the full passage

✨ To meditate on today

According to Rumi, the rose lets itself be pressed into drops of perfume without complaint, and this perfume, poured by God upon the world, makes it bloom in beauty: what shapes you can become a gift. Today, gently offer what blossoms in you, a skill, a listening ear, a kindness, to someone who needs it.

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