Love is not condescension, never
that, nor books, nor any marking
on paper, nor what people say of
each other.
Love is a tree with branches
reaching into eternity
and roots set deep in eternity,
and no trunk!  Have you seen it?
The mind cannot.
Your desiring cannot.
The longing you feel for
this love comes from inside you.
When you become the Friend,
your longing will be the same as the man in
the ocean who holds to a piece of
wood. Eventually, wood, man, and
ocean become one swaying being.

Rumi

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