Every moment love arrives from all sides,

but no more sightseeing.

We are leaving for pure emptiness,

traveling with friends we once lived with,

beyond angels, beyond spirit, to our home city of majesty.

Load up. Say goodbye to this dusty place.

A young luck rides at the head of us.

Giving up the soul is the main business of this caravan,

with the chosen one leading, the one the moon came begging to.

A humble, delicate girl is following the fragrance of his hair.

The moon splits open. We move through,

waterbirds rising to look for another lake.

Or say we are living in a love-ocean,

where trust works to caulk our body-boat,

To make it last a little while, until the inevitable shipwreck,

the total marriage, the death-union.

Dissolve in friendship like two drunkards fighting.

Do not look for justice here

in the jungle where your animal soul

gives you bad advice.

Drink enough wine so that you stop talking.

You are a lover, and love is a tavern where no one makes sense.

Even if the things you say are poems

as dense as sacks of Solomon’s gold,

they become pointless.

~ Rumi, The Great Masterpiece of Celebrating Mystical Love & Friendship