The Inner-blinded by Rumi
A child, walking ahead of his father’s coffin,
Talked crying
O dad, where are they taking you?
They are putting you under the dark soil
They are taking you into a narrow room
With no carpets and no rugs in it
With no lights at night
Nor a piece of bread at day
And no smell of cooking food
He kept on describing the house
Crying terribly hard
A child from among the onlookers
Turned to his father and said
O dad, surely they are taking him to our house!
‘Don’t be mad’, answered his father angrily
Listen dad; listen to the description of the house! Replied the child
In hundreds ways similar to this
The inner-blinded ones are filled with ignorance
Yet not able to see one
