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 been 
to enter this circle of lovers, 
to see beyond seeing itself, 
to reach and feel within the breast.

Rumi


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