Hafez once wrote about a bird holding a rose petal.
As years went by, I realized it is the same petal upon which I lean, its delicate beauty helping me to remain standing in this world of perpetual confusion.
– Hafez (Shiraz, Iran – XIVth c.), Persian poet and Sufi mystic.
I have no roots.
I am just a discarded branch on the soil.
I don’t mind you see.
With the years, I have grown small branches upon which leaves often grow. Small green leaves that gently gather my tears in the early morning, and let the sun shines through all the way to my heart.
Right now, the branches are blooming with fragile white petals almost as transparent as my dreams. Soon the wind will blow and they will scatter in a torrent of laughter.
I hope you can hear them.