When from the glorious Presence
A soft call flows sweet as honey,
And whispers, "Rise up now, come away."
How could the fish not jump
Immediately from dry land into water,
When the sound of water from the ocean
Of fresh waves springs to his ear?
How could the hawk not fly away,
Back, back, to the wrist of the kind
As soon as he hears the drum
The king’s baton hits again and again,
Drumming out the signal of return?
How could the Sufi not start to dance,
Turning on himself, like the atom in the sun of eternity,
So he can leap free of this dying world?
Fly away, fly away, bird, to your native home.
You have leaped free of the cage,
Your wings are flung back in the wind of God.
Leave behind the stagnant and marshy waters,
Hurry, hurry, hurry, O bird, to the source of life!" - Jalal-ud-Din Rumi