Answer - Question-6

Ego is greater than what we imagine it to be; Ego is greater than the whole which you see.

It falls from the heaven again and again to rise, It falls into the sea of the world to rise.

Who else in the world is self‐conscious? Who else can fly without wings?

It lies in darkness and yet has a light in its bosom, Outside the paradise and yet has a houri in embrace!

With the charming wisdom that it possesses, It brings out pearls from the depth of life.

The impulse of life is eternal, But looked at from outside, it is bound by time.

Upon its destiny depends the position of this universe, Its manifestation and preservation of it.

What do you ask about its nature?— Destiny is not something separate from its nature.

What should I say about its character? Outwardly it is determined, inwardly it is free.

Such is the saying of the Lord of Badr, That faith lies between determinism and indeterminism.

You call every creature to be determined, To be confined to the chains of ʺnearʺ and ʺfar.ʺ

But the soul is from the breath of the Creator, Which lives in privacy with all its manifestations.

Determinism with regard to it is out of question, For soul without freedom is not a soul.

It lay in ambush on this world of quantitative measurements. From determinism it passed over to freedom.

When it (ego) removes from itself the dust of determinism, It drives its world like a camel.

The sky does not revolve without its permission, Nor do stars shine without its grace.

One day it reveals its hidden nature, And sees its essence with its own eyes.

Rows of heavenly choir stand on either side of the road, Waiting for a glimpse of its countenance.

The angel gets wine from its vine, It gets significance from its earth.

You ask about the way of its seeking; Come down to the state of lamentation.

Change your days and nights for eternity, Change from intellect to the morning lamentation (intuition).

Intellect has its source in senses, Lamentation gets light from love.

Intellect grasps the part, lamentation the whole Intellect dies but lamentation is immortal.

Intellect has no categories to comprehend eternity, It counts moments as the hands of the watch.

It contrives days and nights and mornings; It cannot catch the flames; therefore it takes on sparks.

The lamentation of the lovers is the ultimate goal, In one moment of it lies hidden a world.

When the ego manifests its potentialities, It removes its inner knots and veil.

You do not have that light by which it sees You look upon it as momentary and mortal.

Why fear that death which comes from without? For when the ʺIʺ ripens into a self it has no danger of dissolution.

There is a more subtle inner death Which makes me tremble!

This death is falling down from loveʹs frenzy, Saving oneʹs spark and not giving it away freely to the heaps of chaff;

Cutting oneʹs shroud with oneʹs own hands; Seeing oneʹs death with oneʹs own eyes;

This death lies in ambush for thee! Fear it, for that is really our death.

It digs your grave in your body, Its Munkar and Nakir are with it.