Reading Time: < 1 minute

Poem

The temple of love is not love itself;
True love is the treasure,
Not the walls about it.
Do not admire the decoration,
But involve yourself in the essence,
The perfume that invades and touches you-
The beginning and the end.
Discovered, this replace all else,
The apparent and the unknowable.
Time and space are slaves to this presence.

Previous Poem
The Taste Of Morning
Next Poem
There Are A Hundred Kinds Of Prayer (Quatrain In Farsi With English Translation)