Fly towards a secret sky

Sometimes, a word or two is all you need - if it is the right word or two.
That is precisely the function of poetry.

And it doesn't matter who "said it first".
As long as you recognise that word, those words, as a true expression of your soul, that's what it is: a true expression of your soul. You said it first, if only to yourself.

The words above - just the word or two that I needed to ignite my fire tonight - I found here.

And the one who said them "first" was one of the greatest poets of all time: Rumi.

He may have lived eight hundred years ago, but what is eight hundred years - what is eight thousand years - in the face of the never-changing, forever yearning human soul?
He might as well have written these words eight days ago.

This is love: to fly toward a secret sky,
to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment.
First, to let go of life.
In the end, to take a step without feet;
to regard this world as invisible,
and to disregard what appears to be the self.