The Secret Rose Garden, by Florence Lederer, , at sacred-texts.com
LET reason go. For his light
Burns reason up from head to foot.
If you wish to see that Face,
Seek another eye. The philosopher
With his two eyes sees double,
So is unable to see the unity of the Truth.
As his light burns up the angels,
Even so doth it consume reason.
As the light of our eyes to the sun,
So is the light of reason to the Light of Lights.
LEARNING is only the outer wrapping
Of the letter;
The dry husk that covers the nut,
Not the kernel concealed within;
Yet must the husk exist
To ripen the kernel.
So from learning comes the sweet knowledge of Faith.
Oh! soul of my brother, hearken,
Strive to gain knowledge of faith,
For the "knower" in both worlds
Has a high place.
Knowledge loves not this world of form
Which is void of Reality.
Begin to till your field
For next year's harvest.
Knowledge is your heritage,
Be adorned with the principle of all virtues.
As the man blind from his birth
Believes not nor understands
Your description of colours,
Even if you show him proofs for a century,
So blind reason cannot see the future state.
But beyond reason man has a certain knowledge
Which God has placed in his soul and body
Whereby he perceives hidden mysteries.
And like the fire in flint and steel
When these are struck together,
The two worlds for him are lit up in a flash.
You say, "I myself have Free-will,
For my body is the horse and my soul the rider,
The reins of the body are in the hands of the soul,
The entire direction is given to me."
Oh! foolish one, these are falsehoods and delusions
That come from an illusory existence.
As your essence is nothingness,
How can you have Free-will?
Seeing that your being is one with not-being,
Whence comes this Free-will of yours?
Imagination distributes actions
As in a play or a farce,
For when your actions were planned,
Before your existence,
You were created for a certain purpose,
By the desire of the Truth.
Therefore is man predestined, before his existence,
To certain appointed work.
. . . (Oh, wondrous ways of Thine, without how or why!)
The honour of man consists of slavery,
In having no share of Free-will.
Of himself man has nothing,
Yet of good and evil God asks him,
Man has no choice, he is under control.
Oh! poor soul, he seems free, yet is a slave.
Give yourself up to the Truth,
For you are helpless in his grasp;
Freedom from self you will find in the All,
And, O Dervish! in the Truth you will find riches.