ashes the harvest of reason.

Now is the traveler unaware of himself, and of aught besides himself. He
seeth neither ignorance nor knowledge, neither doubt nor certitude; he
knoweth not the morn of guidance from the night of error. He fleeth both
from unbelief and faith, and deadly poison is a balm to him. Wherefore
Attár(14) saith:

For the infidel, error—for the faithful, faith;
For Attár’s heart, an atom of Thy pain.

The steed of this Valley is pain; and if there be no pain this journey
will never end. In this station the lover hath no thought save the
Beloved, and seeketh no refuge save the Friend. At every moment he
offereth a hundred lives in the path of the Loved One, at every step he
throweth a thousand heads at the feet of the Beloved.

O My Brother! Until thou enter the Egypt of love, thou shalt never come to
the Joseph of the Beauty of the Friend; and until, like Jacob, thou
forsake thine outward eyes, thou shalt never open the eye of thine inward
being; and until thou burn with the fire of love, thou shalt never commune
with the Lover of Longing.

A lover feareth nothing and no harm can come nigh him: Thou seest him
chill in the fire and dry in the sea.

A lover is he who is chill in hell fire;
A knower is he who is dry in the sea.(15)

Love accepteth no existence and wisheth no life: He seeth life in death,