The grapes of my body can only become wine
after the winemaker tramples me.
I surrender my spirit like grapes to his trampling
so my innermost heart can blaze and dance with joy.
Although the grapes go on weeping blood and sobbing
'I cannot bear any more anguish,
any more cruelty'
the trampler stuffs cotton in his ears:  I am not working in ignorance.
You can deny me if you want, you have every excuse.
But it is I who am the Master of this Work.
And when through my Passion you reach perfection,
you will never be done praising my name.
Rumi

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field.  I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Rumi

Watch the dust grains moving
in the light near the window.
Their dance is our dance.
We rarely hear the inward music,
but we're all dancing to it nevertheless,
directed by the one who teaches us,
the pure joy of the sun,
our music master.
Rumi

Here's my first unpublished fractal - it's called Opening 3.  I hope you'll leave a comment if it speaks to you.

This is how I would die
into the love I have for you
as pieces of cloud
dissolve in sunlight
Rumi