Who Is At The Door?

He said, “Who is at the door?”
I said, “Your humble slave.”
He said, “What is your business?”
I said, “Lord, to greet you.”
He said, “How long will you drive?”
I said, “Until you call.”
He said, “How long will you boil?” I said,
“Till the resurrection.” I laid claim to love, I swore many oaths that for love’s sake I had lost kingship and nobility.
He said, “For a claim the cadi requires witness.”
I said, “My witness is my tears, my sign the pallor of my cheeks.”
He said, “Your witness is invalid; your eye is wet-skirted.”
I said, “By the splendour of your justice, they are just and without fault.”
He said, “Who was your companion?”
I said, “Your fantasy, O King.”
He said, “Who summoned you hither?”
I said, “The scent of your cup.”
He said, “What is your intention?”
I said, “Fidelity and friendship.”
He said, “What do you desire of me?”
I said, “Your universal grace.”
He said, “Where is it most agreeable?”
I said, “Caesar’s palace.”
He said, “What did you see there?”
I said, “A hundred miracles.”
He said, “Why is it desolate?”
I said, “For fear of the highwayman.”
He said, “Who is the highwayman?”
I said, “This blame.”
He said, “Where is safety?”
I said, “In abstinence and godliness.”
He said, “What is abstinence?”
I said, “The way of salvation.”
He said, “Where is calamity?”
I said, “In the street of your love.”
He said, “How fare you there?”
I said, “In perfect rectitude.”
Silence! For if I were to utter his subtleties you would come forth from yourself, neither door nor roof would remain to you.
Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi (Mystical poems of Rumi)