|"There is no angel so sublime, He wispered,|
Who can be granted for one moment
What is granted you forever.
And I hung my head, astounded.
My Heart, that dervish vagabond,
Poured me the wine of oblivion.
I stagger to the House of Wine
Dancing, dancing, dragging this old cloak.
How can you ever hope to know the Beloved
Without becoming in every cell the Lover?
And when you are the Lover at last, you don't care.
Whatever you know or don't - only Love is real.
If one drop of Divine Drunkenness fell
On the intellects of everyone in the world,
The world and its beings, free will, and obedience -
All, all, would vanish in a moment.
The sail of the ship of man's being is belief.
When there is a sail, the wind can carry him
To place after place of power and wonder.
No sail, all words are winds.
You say you have seen Him, but your eyes are two stones.
You say you have known Him, but nothing in you trembles.
You still say "I" when you speak of surviving His glory:
No one who has seen It has ever survived.
The real work of religion is permanent astonishment.
By that I don't mean in astonishment turning your back on Him -
I mean - blazing in blind ecstacy,
drowned in God and drunk on Love.
Choose the company of those withdrawn in love.
Listen to those who open the path to you;
listen, and don't say a word."