In Paradise the German seer
Encountered his Iranian peer –
The poet who, like himself, though
No prophet, has a Book to show.
He told that know’r of secrets old
Of how the learned Doctor sold
His soul to Satan for a song –
A pledge of servitude life-long.
Said Rumi, "Soul of verse’s soul,
Whose art has set itself the goal
Of capturing the seraphim
And God Himself, yes even Him,
Your thought, consorting with your heart,
Remade the world by means of art.
The spirit in the bodys hell,
The pearl’s formation in its shell –All this you know, but there is more..
Not all can learn love’s secret lore,
Not all can enter its high shrine.
He knows who’s blessed by grace divine
That wisdom is the Devil’s to give,
But love is manes prerogative."