Philosophy and Poetry

Bu Ali got lost in the dust kicked up by Layla’s dromedary. Rumi’s hand seized the curtain of her litter.

This one dived deeper, deeper still, till he came upon the pearl he was after. But the other got caught in a whirlpool like a piece of straw.

If the truth has no fervour, it is plain philosophy. If it has the proper fervour, it is poetry.