In Longing for Love

My heart aches with longing for the beloved's face; I never reach that love, and that is why I suffer so. Every pain and torment comes from this near side of love; once you stake your life on it, the work grows easy. If you are no true lover yet boast of love, what you call perfection is nothing but flaw itself. The first condition of love's path is a seeing eye, for the beauty of the beloved is no work for the blind. Once your sight is open, many veils remain, and you must come to understand each one of them. When you have passed, one by one, the veils of arrogance, the veil of your own self is a hundred thousand times as thick. When your own being packs up and leaves your sight, even a clod of clay becomes a mirror of the beloved's beauty. When you enter love's inner court through the door of sincerity, sin becomes pure worship and unbelief becomes faith. Love drives futile sorrows from the heart; when the love is true, the very pain is the cure. Through love's spirit one can live forever; blessed is the heart whose life is sustained by this grace.