When first you enter Wisdom's sea, beware-A wave of indecision floods you there.

A thousand for his love expired each day, And those who saw his face, in blank dismay Would rave and grieve and mourn their lives away- To die for love of that bewitching sight Was worth a hundred lives without his light. None could survive his absence patiently, None could endure this king's proximity- How strange it was that man could neither brook The presence nor the absence of his look!

Let love lead your soul. Make it a place to retire to, a kind of monastery cave, a retreat for the deepest core of your being.

The fruit of love's great tree is poverty; Whoever knows this knows humility.

A man whose eyes love opens risks his soul - His dancing breaks beyond the mind's control.

When first you enter Wisdom's sea, beware-A wave of indecision floods you there.

Were you indeed not blinded by the Curse Of Self-exile, that still grows worse and worse, Yourselves would know that, though you see him not, He is with you this Moment, on this Spot.