I dreamt on the evening last a meeting with the greatest of souls

I dreamt on the evening last a meeting with the greatest of souls.

I wore my humbleness like some tattered robe and yet the welcome was so great I could not see for the light that blinded my old weary eyes.

I called out to the darkness that was sunlight: “Beloved is that you?”

“I have always been your beloved,” came the reply. “Perhaps not the beloved you expected.”

“Then who are you?”

“Open your eyes.”

“You are the living legend. I know of you.”

“Living, yes.  I have no need for legends.”

“This is a dream.”

“Is it?”

“I am dreaming. I thought I was dreaming of my beloved.”

“Here I am.”

“But you are the greatest of the great.”

“Is not your beloved?”

“Oh yes, but he wears a different face.”

“Oh, it is the face that is important?”

“No, not just the face.”

“The clothes then?”

 “No.”

 “Then what is important my child?”

“It is that we have history. We have a deep abiding love.”

 “And we have none?”

“None that I can recall.”

“Have you seen your mother and father lately?”

 “I have not. They died many years ago.”

 “Mine have never died.”

“Is that so?”

 “Yes. They are the same parents that bore you.”

 “Oh, then you are my brother?”

 “In a sense.”

 “Then brother can you tell me where my beloved resides?”

 “You know the answer to that, Rumi. Forever in your heart”

-Jelaluddin Rumi