Sema

 

The anguish you feel

When existential dread

Leaves you disconnected

From the wellspring

Of meaning

Makes you think

Of Rumi’s reed flute

Lamenting separation

From the reedbed

In a voice that

Makes you weep

Even as you see

That meaning

Is always arising

But is often veiled

By daily minutiae

That hide the majesty

Of the soul’s longing

That hollows the heart

So emptiness contains

The fullness of being.