This is love: to fly toward a secret sky,to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment.First, to let go of life.In the end, to take a step without feet;to regard this world as invisible,and to disregard what appears to be the self.Heart, I said, what a gift it has beento enter this circle of lovers,to see beyond seeing itself,to reach and feel within the breast.
Jalaluddin Rumi
love, poetry, spiritual