Dost thou not see how God drives the clouds, then combines them, then makes them a heap? Then thou seest the rain coming out from their midst. He drives the clouds of His compassion, then pours down the rain of His munificence on His friends with His gentleness. He rolls up the carpet of decorum from the courtyards of His nearness, He strikes the domes of awe with the loci of witnessing His unveiling, and He spreads over them the flowers of His intimacy. Then He discloses Himself to them in the realities of His holiness and pours for them with His own hand the wine of His love. Afterwards He effaces their descriptions from them and awakens them not to themselves but to Him. In the tasting of the chevaliers of the Tariqah the clouds are the clouds of compassion, the rain the rain of compassion that His gentleness rains down on the secret cores of His friends. From the soil of loyalty the fragrant herb of limpidness grows up. The sun of beginningless gentleness shines upon it and in the garden of holiness the rose of intimacy blooms. The wind of happiness blows from the horizon of self-disclosure, snatching the servant away from water and dust. Delay and lingering leave the feet of gentleness, and the breeze of beginninglessness blows from the side of proximity. The Pir of the Tariqah said, “It is You who shone the light of self-disclosure on the hearts of the friends, set the springs of affection flowing in their secret cores, and made those hearts Your own mirror and a locus of limpidness. You appeared therein, and with Your appearance You made the two worlds disappear. O light of the eyes of the familiar, celebration of the hearts of the friends, joy of the spirits of the near! All was You and all is You. You are not far that they should seek, nor absent that they should ask. They will not find You other than through You.” “By God, if not for God, we would not have been guided.” How could a bit of water and dust have the gall to talk about eternity if not for eternal solicitude and desire? Had He not in His generosity and bounty invited this handful of dust to the threshold of eter- nity and spread the carpet of expansiveness in the house of guidance, how could this woebegone of existence and this mote of impure dust have the gall to take a step on the edge of the carpet of kings? What is suited for dust is to say with the attribute of brokenness and the tongue of incapac- ity and poverty, “We've come to shame at our own existence, we've encountered stone because of the decree. On the surface of the rug of misfortune, our black days have come in place of color.”