Dance, [Rumi says,] when you're broken open.
Dance, if you've torn the bandage off.
Dance in the middle of the fighting.
Dance in your blood.
Dance, when you're perfectly free.

Since we live where everything is music, everything is dancing.
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 (Coleman Barks translation)