This earth, burnished by hearing the name, is so certain of love,
that the sky bends unceasingly down, to greet its own light.

The drop grows happy by losing itself in the river.

The object of my worship lies beyond perceptions reach. For those who see, the Ka'ba is a compass, nothing more.

For the raindrop, joy is in entering the river.

Consumed by the agony of remembrance The remembrance of night's festive company The one remaining candle flickers and dies.

Lest we forget: It is easy to be human, very hard to be humane

Love cannot be seeded into someone. It is a fire that is difficult to kindle but once it takes on, it is equally difficult to extinguish.