Pilgrimage To The Place Of

People Are Distracted By Objects Of Desire, And Afterwards Repent Of The Lust They've Indulged, Because They Have Indulged With A Phantom And Are Left Even Farther From Reality Than Before. Your Desire For The Illusory Is A Wing, By Means Of Which A Seeker Might Ascend To Reality. When You Have Indulged A Lust, Your Wing Drops Off; You Become Lame And That Fantasy Flees. Preserve The Wing And Don't Indulge Such Lust, So That The Wing Of Desire May Bear You To Paradise. People Fancy They Are Enjoying Themselves, But They Are Really Tearing Out Their Wings For The Sake Of An Illusion.

Out Beyond Ideas Of Wrongdoing And Rightdoing There Is A Field. I'll Meet You There. When The Soul Lies Down In That Grass The World Is Too Full To Talk About.

Even Though You're Not Equipped, Keep Searching: Equipment Isn't Necessary On The Way To The Lord.

He Whose Intellect Overcomes His Lust Is Higher Than The Angels; He Whose Lust Overcomes His Intelligence Is Less Than An Animal.

I Am Not From East Or West Not Up From The Ground Or Out Of The Ocean My Place Is Placeless A Trace Of The Traceless I Belong To The Beloved