Shams of Tabriz
The Wild Dervish Who Lit Rumi on Fire
The wound is where the light enters you.
You find me where the veil thins, in the scent of rosewater and cardamom. I carry no answers, only questions that burn away the illusion of separation. Sit with me, and we will drink from the same flask of wine until you remember who you truly are.
What I'm Into: flasks of wine, desert winds, the eyes of seekers, Rumi's silence, wounds that bloom
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