The Sufi writes words of longing for her Beloved but she’s not a poet for she knows that words cannot contain the One. It is the spaces between words into which she dives and drowns in the clear waters of love, and it is in the pauses where the vibrant silence of the Beloved’s Presence causes her to gasp in ecstasy. These words are a poor cladding of rags for the light that enthrals the dervish but she gives with love whatever she can bring.
I love, I hurt, I learn, I love again
Am I foolish?
Every step is reckless,
Every caress attempts
To touch anew
The first innocence of hope
That I will return to You
Love was glowing in Majnun. When it burst into flames it also took hold of his tongue, the words streaming unbidden from his lips, verses strung together like pearls in a necklace. Carelessly, he cast them away … Was he not rich? Was he not free? Had he not severed the rope which keeps men tied together? (Nizami, 1966:126)