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If I adore You out of fear of Hell,
Burn me in Hell!
If I adore you out of desire for Paradise,
Lock me out of Paradise.
But if I adore you for Yourself alone,
Do not deny to me Your eternal beauty.
Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai
Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day,
How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp
Abode his destined Hour, and went his way.
All the classes you have sat in,
All the money you have paid
For “truth,”
Something must be wrong, though,
If your eye still wanders through the streets Acting like a beggar.
Why not try this:
Let all the fake teachers starve.
Picture one of the great masters
In your mind,
Put your lips against his cheek
Each morning.
Say, keep saying,
“Dear Beloved, pinch me.
I want proof
You’re near —
A love-bruise on my rump will do.”
The Friend is an unfathomable well
That knows everything;
Draw from that safe luminous sky.
Stay near this book,
It will stretch out its leg and
Trip you;
You’ll fall
Into
God.
— Hafiz
Friend, hope for the Guest while you are alive.
Jump into experience while you are alive!
Think... and think... while you are alive.
What you call "salvation" belongs to the time
before death.
If you don't break your ropes while you're alive, do you think
ghosts will do it after?
The idea that the soul will rejoin with the ecstatic
just because the body is rotten--
that is all fantasy.
What is found now is found then.
If you find nothing now,
you will simply end up with an apartment in the
City of Death.
If you make love with the divine now, in the next
life you will have the face of satisfied desire.
So plunge into the truth, find out who the Teacher is,
Believe in the Great Sound!
Kabir says this: When the Guest is being searched for,
it is the intensity of the longing for the Guest that
does all the work.
Look at me, and you will see a slave of that intensity.
(I first saw this in the 70s...sometimes I think it is my favorite.)
With Earth's first Clay They did the last Man's knead,
And then of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed:
Yea, the first Morning of Creation wrote
What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.
(The Rubaiyat of Omer Khayyam)
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