Number 23

The eternal cupbearer, whose wine my soul is drunk on, poured me a drink that has no color and no scent. Without a mouth, my soul drank down that wine, for it is pure and beyond any barrel, cup, or jug. The light of that wine went to work in my soul and heart, its fire in my bones, my marrow, and my skin. In my drunkenness I saw the back of drunkenness itself, and saw a world with no hidden side: all of it turned toward me. When at last the veil was lifted from before me, I saw both worlds entirely, and saw they were all Him. What I had called a mere speck of dust was a blazing sun, what I had called a little stream was an endless sea. Ugly and beautiful they seemed, but were not two: whatever I called ugly and whatever I called beautiful were one. Everyone I had imagined to be my enemy, when I finally saw the truth, turned out to be my friend. Maghrebi, since there is no real difference at all, hold your tongue: this is no place for talk.