“Who speaks? Who listens?
define and narrow me: you starve yourself of yourself
nail me down in a box of cold words: that box is your coffin
I do not know who I am
I am in astounding lucid confusion
I am not a christian, not a jew not a zoroastran
I am not even a muslim
I belong not to the land, to known or unknown sea,
nature does not own nor claim me
Neither heaven
Bulgaria India china,
my place of birth is placelessness
my sign to have and give no sign
You say you see my mouth, ears, eyes, nose
they are not mine
I am the life of life
I am that cat this stone, no-one
I have thrown dualism away like an old dishrag
I see and know all times and worlds
as one, one , always one
So what do I have to do to get you to admit
who is speaking?
Admit it and change everything,
this is your own voice echoing off the walls of god”
– Rumi