Page 219 of A Year with Rumi.
Enjoyed solo without much else.
Shared with cappuccino and muffin.
The people of Saba feel bored
with just the mention of prophecy.
They have no desire of any kind. Maybe some
idle curiosity about miracles, but that’s it.
This over-richness is a subtle disease.
Those who have it are blind to what’s wrong,
and deaf to anyone who points it out.
The city of Saba cannot be understood
from within itself, but there is a cure,
an individual medicine, not a social remedy.
Sit quietly and listen for a voice
that will say, Be more silent.
As that happens, your soul starts to revive.
Give up talking, and your positions of power.
Give up the excessive money.
Turn toward the teachers and the prophets
who do not live in Saba. They will help you
grow sweet again, and fragrant and wild and fresh,
and thankful for any small event.
personal note: I am missing my Rumi. snif.