Love is to flee from “I” and “we” and
to rest in the shade of the Friend.
It is to remove oneself from the center and
to pull Him instead to the core of one’s soul.
It is to erase one’s thoughts and
to tear up the intellect’s notebook.
It is to wash one’s hands of all but God and
to step back from other doorways.
It is not to read anything but the story of love, and
not to witness anything in the soul but His reflection.
It is not to wish for anything but His company, and
not to hear anything but the words of the Beloved.
It is not to climb on anyone else’s rooftop to reach Him, but
to fly continuously towards Him on your own.
It is not to go in search of anyone else, but
to run constantly towards Him alone.
It is to give away Nurbakhsh’s heart and soul,
and to receive God in return.