The world has spilled Love's secret — when could music ever hold its tongue? Every atom babbles the mystery — Listen yourself, for I'm no tattletale! - Fakhr-al-Din Iraqi

The more I gaze
at Your face, the more
my eyes incline
toward Your vision
like one who dies of thirst
by the ocean shore,
lips to the wave,
thirstier and thirstier.

Since we have quaffed
the beaker of Thy love, we yield our hearts
and make our Lives Thy ransom: since we come
again into Thy street, we turn our backs
on all that is, save Thee. Our souls are bound
to serve Thee, though in grief, and we have died
to selfhood! We are captives of Thy love
and have not strength to flee. Thy beauty's fever
has lit a flame: shall not our hearts be burned?

The Morning of Manifestation sighed, the breeze of Grace breathed gently,
ripples stirred
upon the sea of Generosity. The clouds of Abundance poured down the rain upon the soil of preparedness; so much rain that the earth shone with Light.