The Pleiades

In absence, aloe wood burns fragrant.
The love we feel is smoke from that.

Existence gets painted with non-existence,

its source, the fire behind a screen.

Smoke born of this fire hides the fire!
Pass through the smoke.

Soul, a moving river; body, the riverbed.
Soul can break the circle of fate and habit.

Take hold the hand of absence and let it
draw you through the Pleiades,
giving up wet and dry, hot and cold.

You become a confidante of Shams Tabriz.

You see clearly the glory of nothing...

and stand, inexplicably there.

~Rumi
(translated by Coleman Barks)