The One who, himself without colour, by the manifold application of his power distributes many colours in his hidden purpose, and into whom, it’s end and it’s beginning, the whole world dissolves - He is God!
O soul, you worry too much. You have seen your own strength. You have seen your own beauty. You have seen your golden wings. Of anything less, why do you worry? You are in truth the soul, of the soul, of the soul.
You created the counterfeit and the genuine. You appraise all people. You appraise the true, and place them in Your treasury; You consign the false to wander in delusion.
Take a look at your natural river. Are you riding with it? Or are you rowing against it? Don’t you see that there is no effort if you’re riding with your river?
