The Third Valley





If the loving seekers wish to live within the precincts of the Attracting

One (Majdhub),(107) no soul may dwell on this Kingly Throne save the

beauty of love. This realm is not to be pictured in words.



Love shunneth this world and that world too,

In him are lunacies seventy-and-two.

The minstrel of love harpeth this lay:

Servitude enslaveth, kingship doth betray.(108)



This plane requireth pure affection and the bright stream of fellowship.

In telling of these companions of the Cave He saith: They speak not till

He hath spoken; and they do His bidding.(109)



On this plane, neither the reign of reason is sufficient nor the authority

of self. Hence, one of the Prophets of God hath asked: O my Lord, how

shall we reach unto Thee? And the answer came, Leave thyself behind, and

then approach Me.



These are a people who deem the lowest place to be one with the throne of

glory, and to them beauty's bower differeth not from the field of a battle

fought in the cause of the Beloved.



The denizens of this plane speak no words--but they gallop their chargers.

They see but the inner reality of the Beloved. To them all words of sense

are meaningless, and senseless words are full of meaning. They cannot tell

one limb from another, one part from another. To them the mirage is the

real river; to them going away is returning. Wherefore hath it been said:



The story of Thy beauty reached the hermit's dell;

Crazed, he sought the Tavern where the wine they buy and sell.

The love of Thee hath leveled down the fort of patience,

The pain of Thee hath firmly barred the gate of hope as well.(110)



In this realm, instruction is assuredly of no avail.



The lover's teacher is the Loved One's beauty,

His face their lesson and their only book.

Learning of wonderment, of longing love their duty,

Not on learned chapters and dull themes they look.

The chain that binds them is His musky hair,

The Cyclic Scheme,(111) to them, is but to Him a stair.(112)



Here followeth a supplication to God, the Exalted, the Glorified:



O Lord! O Thou Whose bounty granteth wishes!

I stand before Thee, all save Thee forgetting.

Grant that the mote of knowledge in my spirit

Escape desire and the lowly clay;

Grant that Thine ancient gift, this drop of wisdom,

Merge with Thy mighty sea.(113)



Thus do I say: There is no power or might save in God, the Protector, the

Self-Subsistent.(114)





The Tablet Of Ishraqat The Time Fore-ordained Unto The Peoples And facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmail

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