Man, in regard to his corporeal nature, stands at the lowest point of degradation; nevertheless, in regard to his spiritual nature, he is at the summit of nobility. He takes the impress of everything to which he directs his attention, and assumes the colour of everything to which he approaches. Wherefore philosophers say that when the reasonable soul adorns itself with exact and faithful impressions of realities, and appropriates to itself the true character of such realities, it becomes such as if it were itself altogether essential Being. In like manner the vulgar, by the force of their conjunction with these material forms and extreme preoccupation with these corporeal liens, come to be such that they cannot distinguish themselves from these forms or perceive any difference between the two. Well says the Maulavī of Rūm (may God sanctify his secret) in the Masnavī—

O brother, thou art wholly thought,
For the rest of thee is only bone and muscle:
If thy thought be a rose, thou art a rose-bouquet;
If it be a thorn, thou art fuel for the fire.

Wherefore it behoves thee to strive and hide thy self from thy sight,* and occupy thyself with Very Being, and concern thyself with the “Truth”. For the various grades of created things are theatres of His revealed beauty, and all things that exist are mirrors of his perfections.

And in this course thou must persevere until He mingles Himself with thy soul, and thine own individual existence passes out of thy sight. Then, if thou regardest thyself, it is He whom thou art regarding; if thou speakest of thyself, it is He of whom thou art speaking. The relative has become the Absolute, and “I am the Truth” is equivalent to “He is the Truth”.*

If love of rose or bulbul fill thine heart,
Thyself a rose or eager bulbul art.
Thou are a part; the “Truth” is all in all.
Dwell on the “Truth”, and cease to be a part.

Of my soul's union with this fleshly frame,
Of life and death Thou art the end and aim.
I pass away; Thou only dost endure.
When I say “me”, 'tis “Thee” I mean to name.*

When will this mortal dress be torn away,
And Beauty Absolute His face display,
Merging my soul in His resplendent light,
Blinding my heart with His o'erpowering ray?