reading rumi

i wasnt reading him yesterday, but someone sent me this because they were:

"if you haven't left the child's play, how can you be an adult?
without purity of spirit if you're still in the middle of lust and greed and other wantings, you're like children
playing at sexual intercourse. they wrestle and rub together, but it's not sex!

the same with the fightings of mankind.
it's a squabble with play-swords.
no purpose, totally futile.

like kids on hobby horses, soldiers claim to be riding, boraq, muhammad's night-horse, or duldul, his mule.

your actions mean nothing, the sex and the war that you do. you're holding parts of your pants and prancing around,dun-da-dun, dun-da-dun.

don't wait till you die to see this.
recognize that your imagination and your thinking and your sense-perception are reed canes
that children cut and pretend are horses."

there is a tradition where women cut all their hair off when they are in mourning, i think only to let pain take a course for healing. makes sense to me.