Last night things flowed between us that cannot now be said or written. Only as I'm being carried out and down the road, as the folds of my shroud open in the wind, will anyone be able to read, as on the petal-pages of a turning bud, what passed through us last night.
Rumi 💛💛💛
This page is a permanent link to the reply below and its nested replies. See all post replies »
