Perhaps the fragrance from that happiness of divine contemplation will meet us. If this were not the case, what relationship would there be between hunger in fasting and surrender to greater Will?
Of what use would be these open invitations, destinies that move without will to meet with strangers? What use would there be in love that moves us to write secret letters, sing music, read poetry? Or of the the water trickles that sing to us at this brook where we read?
Because there are birds who love despite knowing when one dies, the other will die too. And daisies that blossom holding to no promise that you won’t eventually trample on them.
There is no reason to love, but love alone. There is no need to create, mate, marry, promise, possess or glorify the simple act of sex. All these Sufis’ and Nooris’ are in us already. I feel them kicking.