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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.

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