Whilst researching a poetry course I'm developing, I came across a beautiful Rumi poem.

If I chose just one sentence from this poem for its truth of expression, it would be:

“While intelligence considers other options, I am somewhere lost in the wind.”

What’s Not Here
by Rumi (1207-73)

I started out on this road, call it
love or emptiness. I only know what’s
not here: resentment seeds, back-
scratching greed, worrying about out-
outcome, fear of people. When a bird gets
free, it doesn’t go back for remnant
left on the bottom of the cage! Close
by, I’m rain. Far off, a cloud of fire.
I seem restless, but I am deeply at ease.
Branches tremble; the roots are still.
I am a universe in a handful of dirt,
whole when totally demolished. Talk
about choices does not apply to me.
While intelligence considers options,
I am somewhere lost in the wind.