Who gets up early to discover the moment light begins? Who finds us here circling, bewildered, like atoms? Who comes to a spring thirsty and sees the moon reflected in it? Who, like Jacob, blind with grief and age, smells the shirt of his son and can see again? Who lets a bucket down and brings up a flowing prophet? Or like Moses goes for fire and finds what burns inside the sunrise?
Jesus slips into a house to escape enemies, and opens a door to the other world. Solomon cuts open a fish, and there’s a gold ring. Omar storms in to kill the prophet and leaves with blessings. Chase a deer and end up everywhere! An oyster opens his mouth to swallow one drop. Now there’s a pearl.
A vagrant wanders empty ruins Suddenly he’s wealthy.
But don’t be satisfied with stories, how things have gone with others. Unfold your own myth, without complicated explanation, so everyone will understand the passage, We have opened you. . . .
Love has nothing to do with the five senses and the six directions: its goal is only to experience the attraction exerted by the Beloved. Afterwards, perhaps, permission will come from God: the secrets that ought to be told will be told with an eloquence nearer to the understanding of these subtle confusing allusions. The secret is partner with none but the knower of the secret: in the skeptic’s ear the secret is no secret at all.
God has made existence magnificent,
He has made it through nonexistence.
He has concealed the sea
And exposed the foam,
Concealed the wind and displayed the dust.
The whirling dust flies like a dancer,
The wind is invisible, known only by trust,
The foam moves all about you,
But without the sea no whirling takes place.
Thought is hidden, speech is manifest.