Blue Ashes

Take 1

2009-01-01T23:50:00.003+03:30

My resolution for 2009:

"If I do not want what you want, please try not to tell me that my want is wrong.

Or if I believe other than you, at least pause before you correct my view.

Or if my emotion is less than yours, or more, given the same circumstances, try not to ask me to feel more strongly or weakly.

Or yet if I act, or fail to act, in the manner of your design for action, let me be.

I do not, for the moment at least, ask you to understand me. That will come only when you are willing to give up changing me into a copy of you.

I may be your spouse, your parent, your offspring, your friend, or your colleague. If you will allow me any of my own wants, or emotions, or beliefs, or actions, then you open yourself, so that some day these ways of mine might not seem so wrong, and might finally appear to you as right-for me. To put up with me is the first step to understanding me. Not that you embrace my ways as right for you, but that you are no longer irritated or disappointed with me for my seeming waywardness. And in understanding me you might come to prize my differences from you, and, far from seeking to change me, preserve and even nurture those differences."

Keirsey & Bates, Please Understand Me, 1984

The year has been dubbed as the year for change; Join me, if you will, in the celebration of ourselves -not by ourselves, but rather, as a whole.

Behind those grey and lonely eyes (aka where I stood)

2008-11-02T22:03:00.001+03:30

"Face down I just break down when I see you cry... all the time"

And I do cry, you know... all the time...
I just can't hold on anymore.

Enough with the crying. I'm not even trying to be poetic about this. All that once lived within me has broken free, fleeing from the shattered shards of glass lying around in my wasteland... I know no poetry, I know no sentiment, I know no love.

If you'd rather not accept this as an early birthday gift, take it as a farewell...

All's Fair in Love and Despair

2008-07-05T00:59:00.001+04:30

“A writer once said that it is not time that changes man, nor knowledge; the only thing that can change someone’s mind is love. What nonsense! The person who wrote that clearly knew only one side of the coin.

Love was undoubtedly one of the things capable of changing a person’s whole life, from one moment to the next. But there was the other side of the coin, the second thing that could make a human being take a totally different course from the one he or she had planned; and that was despair. Yes, perhaps love really could transform someone, but despair did the job more quickly.”

I just started a new Coelho novel tonight, entitled Eleven Minutes, while I waddled away in my loneliness, and wondered as to why I let you leave me alone to beg for attention once again. As the hours passed, first my frustration grew; eventually it led to anger; and finally, it docked at despair. Despair. I started to think of the things I could never expect from you. Of my constant longing for affection. Of everything you one day were, and now, either willingly or forcefully, have stopped to be. Most importantly, I started to think about what your eyes used to assure me of: respect. Respect I have been deprived of for some time now, only sometimes unknowingly.

By the time you called, every line on my face was etched with despair. I said I was apologizing “in hopes of” – yet another one of life’s daily paradoxes. I was hopeless. Your call angered me. Your calm tone in response to my tears. Your pretending like everything will be alright. Your favorite new line: we’ll talk tomorrow. Tomorrow never seems to come these days.

Yet after hanging up… I started to wonder about love. About love and the conversation and your alibi and the loss of a loved one. Despair had driven me to say hateful things. Despair had driven you to call me selfish on a day I had told you I required your full attention. And then… How many times have I wept having one of my parents go away on a flight, not having made amends, worried stiff, thinking the unthinkable, that hollow what if…? What if I never got to speak to them again? And it got me thinking, how sure could I be that you would go to sleep tonight and wake up tomorrow morning? How sure could I be that something terrible won’t happen to you in the blink of an eye, and I won’t ever be able to take back what I said?

That’s why I texted you that message… the one you still haven’t replied to. Love took over once again. I realized that no matter how much my pride would hurt from taking the first step and throwing myself off my wall of stubbornness; it couldn’t compare with the hurt my heart would feel if I were to have to hold those last words in for the rest of my life.

Thinking over my words, people reading this might think I’m finally close to attaining my goal of living in the moment; I’ve only achieved the easier half. In the first part of this whole obscene mess, I focused on the past: I let despair take control. In the last, the future ruled mightily, along with my heart.

I’d love to say that if one of us were to regret what we did tonight, I hope it wouldn’t have to be you regretting never having replied. But the truth of the matter is…

Self-Destruction

2008-03-04T04:59:00.002+03:30

It's something you can see in any futuristic movie these days: a self-destructing message of some sort. The message being delivered, a sexy, mysterious female voice delivers the final note, which usually goes something in the lines of, "This message will self-destruct in x seconds". Then comes the usual frantic motions, vain efforts to put some sort of distance between the recipient and the message in the allotted time-frame.

It got me thinking... What if I were to tell people that? What If I were to tell them something in the lines of, "This person will self-destruct in x seconds"; or minutes, or hours, or days even, whichever you prefer. I wonder if I'd see the same sort of anxious reaction. I wonder if everyone would make a run for it, increasing their distance as the seconds go by…

Actually, no. What I'm really wondering is whether anyone would care enough to stay.

آب سرد

2008-03-03T03:31:00.003+03:30

...نمي‌دونم بايد با خودم چي كار كنم

آمد خزان

2007-10-27T02:19:00.000+03:30

اي باغبان، اي باغبان، آمد خزان، آمد خزان
بر شاخ و برگ از درد دل بنگر نشان، بنگر نشان

اي باغبان، هين، گوش كن، ناله‌ي درختان نوش كن
نوحه كنان از هر طرف صد بي‌زبان، صد بي‌زبان

هرگز نباشد بي‌سبب گريان دو چشم و خشك‌لب
نبود كسي بي درد دل، رخ زعفران، رخ زعفران

حاصل، درآمد زاغ غم در باغ و مي‌كوبد قدم
پرسان به افسوس و ستم، كو گلستان؟ كو گلستان؟

كو سوسن و كو نسترن؟ كو سرو و لاله و ياسمن؟
كو سبزپوشان چمن؟ كو ارغوان؟ كو ارغوان؟

كو ميوه‌ها را دايگان؟ كو شهد و شكر رايگان؟
خشك است از شير روان، هر شيردان، هر شيردان

كو بلبل شيرين فنم؟ كو فاخته‌ي كوكو زنم؟
طاووس خوب چون صنم، كو طوطيان؟ كو طوطيان؟

خورده چو آدم دانه‌اي، افتاد كاشانه‌اي
پرّيده تاج و حلّه‌شان زين اِفتنان، زين اِفتنان

گلشن چو آدم مستضر، هم نوحه‌گر، هم منتظر
چون گفتشان: ‍"لا تَقْنَطوا" ذوالاِمتِنان، ذوالاِمتِنان

جمله درختان صف‌زده، جامه‌سيه، ماتم‌زده
بي‌برگ و زار و نوحه‌گر، زان امتحان، زان امتحان

اي لكلك و سالارِ ده، آخر جوابي باز ده
در قعر رفتي، يا شدي بر آسمان، بر آسمان

گفتند: "اي زاغ عدو، آن آب باز آيد به جو
عالم شود پر رنگ و بو، همچون جنان، همچون جنان"؛

مسافر

2007-10-13T23:43:00.000+03:30

پلك چشمم مي‌پره... خوب مي‌دونم كي تو راهه!؛

Save the Best for Last

2007-09-23T23:03:00.000+03:30

And then there was one... or better yet, then there was no one!

1st day of school. We had our own little ritual. Walk through 16th of Azar (my Bday!) Street over to Enghelab Street, walk along the southern grounds of campus, and start things by walking through the main gates: The University of Tehran, whose infamous gates are portrayed on every 50 tomans bill across the country - now replaced by the 50 tomans coin, which depicts a pheonix.

First year, 3 of us made the trip. Eventually we became 2, and this year, my last year, I was alone. It felt sad, and I was even tempted to take a shorter route, but there was a deep feeling of deception, one I can't quite put my finger on, in not keeping with it. So I did. I played Fort Minors' "Where'd U Go" as I made my way over to the gates, walked up past "Kajestan" (roughly meaning field of pine trees and the most beautiful and cozy space on the central campus), the Faculty of Law and Political Sciences, and headed up towards my own faculty, Engineering, or as we locals simply call it, Fanni. This time around, there was no grin on my face, and I would've punched someone down had they nudged a friend signaling an approaching freshman. This time around I was alone, and in a hurry to make it to class. I didn't even bother looking around as I made my way up to my department to figure out which classroom was waiting for me; I actually kept my headphones on, playing my iPod at its highest volume, in hopes not to even hear anyone in case they called out or whatever - not that it was highly anticipated. Everything just felt... normal. As though I hadn't been away for a whole summer, as though I hadnt missed anyone, the tiles, the stairs, the announces' boards, the high cieling, the columns stretching across the huge "lobby" of the building, those same ones i'd used to conducte innumerous games of hide and seek from, avoiding people. The three tiny steps at each end of the lobby, leading to the best lockers in the building - one of which I owned the only other key to for the past 3 yrs - the steps I'd sat on for countless hours, with or without people, just to blow off steam, kill time, read, or people watch as I passed all those endless hours I'd wasted off in my first four years as a student in Fanni... Even saying these things now, I'm no longer tempted to go and take a look, see who's enjoying all my precedent passtimes, sometimes oin a desperate attempt to just have time pass them by...
The volleyball net behind Fanni's been taken down, completely... We used to play, Faz and I, even at times like these, even when it was Ramadan and we were fasting (her actually, I only started last year) we'd play and play and play, till we'd hear the azan and, the long wait being over, could go get something to eat...

It was a pretty boring day to be a 1st day of school sort of thing... The weather was hot, no one could eat, having it be Ramadan and such, and all I could think to myself was what the hell are they gonna do to make it memorable? Maybe it's just me, maybe I'm too old... Or maybe I'm just too alone. Nothing feels the same. Maybe in time though, I can find some comfort in everything new. But I'm not holding my breath or anything. As a wise man used to say: "We'll see".

It annoys me. In highschool, every single so-called 1st day of school, my dad dropped me off himself... every single one, except the last. He was away for 3 weeks. It was lame and pathetic, I know, but it brought more than just a few tears seeing the ritual broken; it made me cry. This year, maybe because I've become more rough around the edges, there weren't any tears or even dewy moments. There was just this awful bitter feeling, one that kept nagging, one that kept asking: Why this time around? Why this very last time around?

The Last Day of Summer

2007-09-22T23:38:00.000+03:30

Maybe the last day of my last summer...

بدون شرح

2007-09-16T09:55:00.001+03:30

ديروز بعد از مدت‌ها گذارم افتاد به اميرآقا. واسه كاري كه طبق معمول انجام هم نشد. اطلاعيه‌هاي ناقص دانشكده هيچ چيز جديدي نبود. كتاب‌خونه‌ي معدن كه به عبارتي تا الاغش پر بود! و كتاب‌خونه‌ي متال رو هم كه داشتن با وقاحت هر چه تمام‌تر به يه رنگ زرد كريه آغشته مي‌كردن، تعطيل بود. ولي ذهنم تموم مدت جاي ديگه بود. اين كه آخرين باري كه اومده بودم امير‌آباد جشن فارغ‌التحصيلي آذين اينا بود. هيچ وقت حس نبودن يك آدم رو به اين شدت تجربه نكرده بودم. مسئله اين نيست كه ايميل و تلفن و اس.ام.اس. و چت و هزار و يك راه ارتباطي بينمون هست و زبونامون لال طرف كه نمرده. مسئله اين جاست كه آذين ديگه نه جزئي از دانشكده‌ي برق كامپيوتره، نه جزئي از دانشكده فني، نه جزئي از دانشگاه تهران، و نه حتي جزئي از خود تهران! آذين ديگه از ايران رفته، مشغول چيدن زندگي‌اش تو يه كشور غريبه شده. كشوري كه براي من يكي خيلي هم غريب نيست. 8 سال كم وقتي نيست. مسئله كشور نيست. مسئله تموم اون مجموعه‌هايي كه به ناچار بايد يواش يواش تركشون كني، و فقط نسبت به‌شون تعلق خاطر داشته باشي؛ تموم مجموعه‌هايي جديدي كه اجباراً بايد جايگزين قبليا بكني. مجموعه‌ي دوستان، هم‌كلاسي‌ها، اساتيد، هم محل‌ها، هم‌شهري‌ها و ...ۀ

مسئله به سادگي يه تماس تلفني حل نمي‌شه. دور خونه مي‌گردي و كارت تلفن پيدا نمي‌كني. پيدا هم بكني از شانست وقتي دنبال كاناداييش باشي اروپايي از آب در مياد و بالعكس. اگر اروپا باشه بايد ميل تماس‌هاي صبحانه رو واسه يه جو روحيه قبل از رفتن سر كار و زندگيت تو خودت بكشي، مبادا طرفت رو بيدار كني و امروز ويكندِ و فرداش هاليديِ و مبادا از خواب بيدارش كني. اگرم مقصد آمريكا و كانادا باشه كه ديگه افتضاح! هي بشين و 8 ساعت بالا پايين كن. الان خوابه. الان كلاسه. الان شبه بيرونه. الان ظهره ناهاره. نه به خدا، فاصله خيلي فراتر از يه تماس تلفنيه.ۀ

ناراحت نيستم از اين كه آذين رفت. از اين كه فضيلت نيست. از اين كه فلاني و بهماني هم نيستند يا همين روزا ديگه نخواهند بود. خودم هم تصميم به موندن ندارم. از همين تصميمم ناراحتم. از اون چه كه مجبورم مي‌كنه اين تصميم رو بگيرم ناراحتم. از مملكت و مردمانش ناراحتم. نه مشكلم اونايي كه ميان ديش ماهواره جمع مي‌كنن و تو خيابون به سرتاپات گير ميدن و پشت فرمون بي‌خودي جلوتو مي‌گيرن واسه اين هزار تومن بذاري كف دستشون تا رد شي بري، نيستن. ديشامونو جمع كردن، جاش داريم كتاب مي‌خونيم. تو خيابون بهم گير دادن، ديگه اون‌ورا نرفتم. پشت فرمون خواستن درجه حرارت بخاريمو زياد كنم تا دستاشون يخ نزنه، جريمَمو گرفتم و گذاشتم انگشتاشون يكي يكي بيفتن. مسئله اينا نيستن. مسئله اونايين كه از برنامه‌هاي ماهواره اي فقط كانالاي موزيك و مد رو كشف كردن. اونايي كه تو خيابون با تيكه‌هاشون باعث مي‌شن تو به چشم اونايي بياي كه مسئول گير دادنَن . مسئله‌ي من به اصطلاح "امثال من" هستن. خودمونيم. بد نسلي از آب در اومديم؛ نه حتي تو زرد، بلكه تو خالي.ۀ

ناراحتيه من اينه كه بايد موقع نوشتن هم‌چين پستي همين طور بي وقفه اشك بريزم. مسئله‌ي من اتاق جديدمه كه هر چيز جديدي براش مي‌گيرم دلم تير مي‌كشه، چون مي‌دونم نبايد دل ببندم يا حتي به خودم اجازه بدم با اين اتاق انس بگيرم. مسئله‌ي من اينه كه مجبور شدم زندگي‌م رو روي حالت "پاز" بذارم و فقط بشينم به اين اميد كه يه روز يه جايي دوباره بتونم زندگي‌م رو به حركت در بيارم. مسئله‌ي من اينه كه وقتي مامانم اينا ميگن آخه تو دخترموني، يعني واقعاً مي‌خواي بذاري و بري، مي‌خواي بري چيزي بخوني كه هيچ‌وقت نتوني برگردي ايران كنار اين مردم كار كني و زندگي كني؟ مجبورم جلوي گريه‌م رو بگيرم و بگم آره، راه ديگه‌اي نمي‌بينم. چرا كه رضايت از زندگي‌م رو حق خودم مي‌بينم. حقي كه توي ايران امكان رسيدن بهش براي هم چون مني تعريف نمي‌شه. مجبورم با گريه‌هام به خلوت اتاقم پناه ببرم و بي‌وقفه از خدا بخوام كه يه جايي رو توي مسير زندگي‌م پيش‌بيني كنه كه دوباره بتونم به خونواده‌ي كوچيكي كه آغوشش از آغوش همه‌ي دنيا گرم‌تر و بزرگ‌تره برگردم. گريه ديگه امونم نمي‌ده و بهم اجازه‌ي ادامه رو نمي‌ده. بهتر.ۀ

چيز زيادي نمي‌خوام. فقط دوست داشتم مي‌تونستم هر شب سر افطار به فضيلت زنگ بزنم و ازش التماس دعا كنم. دوست داشتم هر از گاهي بتونم كرم بريزم و نصفه شب آذين رو بيدار كنم كه نماز صبحش رو بخونه... فحش بشنوم و بد و بيراه. همين.ۀ

The Next Train

2007-09-14T10:35:00.000+03:30

I'm so psyched to see this page back up again, I can't hold back to post everything else I've written during this time! Hopefully I can fill in the gaps as time goes by...

I was reading an essay last night, on college life. I came across something pertinent to what's been casting a shadow over my thoughts for the past week:

-Whether the changes are all on a larger or a smaller scale, whether they are permanent and slow to evolve or temporary and quickly assumed, they are evidence of a fundamental characteristic of human nature. No individual is a single personality; his several selves develop and shift and mingle as he moves through experience, and each part contributes to the making of a whole.-

Needless to say, what I've developed into over these four years doesn't impress me much; and no, I don't feel as though I'm being to harsh on myself. I've only always expected myself to do my best, even though in reality I've laid off my work pretty easily and without much conscious thought, and sadly, continue to do so. In truth, none of that hurts as much as the reason I see to all that. Even up to a week ago, I was simply content to think I gave it up for a cause I thought worthy. For friends who cherished me the way I did them; thought of me as I did of them. To have all that taken away has left me empty-handed, and I can't seem to find enough courage inside to get a train ticket to a new destination. As I always used to say, there's a light at the end of every tunnel... hopefully it's not a train!
This time though, hope seems too little to go on. This time I need certainty to push me forward into a new path.

Truly, ignorance is bliss.

صداقت : روايتي از منِ 16 ساله

2007-09-06T18:24:00.000+03:30

:چيز‌هايي كه من را من مي‌كنند
جدي - بدجنسي - بي‌خيال - علاقه‌مند به موسيقي - ساعي - ورزش دوست - پر روي به جا(!) - رك - مؤدب - باهوش - دورو - اهل شوخي - خون‌گرم - زورگو - خوش‌قلب - زرنگ - بعضي اوقات بي‌ادب - بهداشتي - خيانت‌كار - اسكيت‌باز - خوش اخلاق - مهربان - شلوغ - بي‌علاقه نسبت به خانه‌داري - پرحرف - درس‌خوان - كم غذا - عاشق ماكاروني - باحال - منظم - علاقه‌مند به سينما - بامزه - بامعرفت - دروغ‌گو - عاشق طبيعت - اعتماد به نفس دار(!)ۀ

دوم دبيرستان درسي داشتيم به اسم مهارت‌هاي زندگي. اين هفته بالاخره وقت كردم (بعد 6 ماه) همه چيز رو توي اتاق جديدم جا كنم. يه پوشه پيدا كردم اون لاماها كه مربوط مي‌شد به تمريناي اين درس، كه ناگفته نمونه، از اون جايي كه اصولاً همه‌ي كلاسايي كه بهم اجازه‌ي ابراز وجود مي‌دادن رو مي‌پسنديدم، درس(!) موردعلاقه‌‌م بود اون سال. (البته اين هم ناگفته نمونه كه نه اين كه فكر كنين بي‌نظمَم و از ديدن اين جزوه و پي بردن به اين‌كه هنوز وجود خارجي داره و تو آتيشاي چهارشنبه سوري در راه شادي جمع فنا نشده تعجب كردما،نه... بلكه! از اون جايي كه هنوز كتاب دفتراي دوران دبستانم رو هم كه از اونور آب كشوندم آوردم اينجا دارم، يه جورايي برخورد كردن باهاش برام خالي از هيجان نبود)ۀ

نه قرار بود اولويت‌بندي باشه نه هيچي. اين ويژگي‌ها رو هم پخش و پلا تو يه كاغذ كلاسور نوشته بودم و تحويل داده بودم.خوشم مياد اون موقع‌ها كمتر خودم رو سانسور مي‌كردم. چه تو جنبه‌هاي مثبت قضيه، چه اون جايي كه رذالت ذاتي‌م رو فاش مي‌كردم. نمي‌دونم خاصيت دوران نوجواني بود، يا از اثرات اون ور آب بزرگ شدن كه هنوز خيلي جاها سر بيرون مي‌كردن و خود خوشكل‌شون رو در معرض ديد همگان قرار مي‌دادن و بيشتر مواقع هم موجب شرم و خجلت بنده مي‌شدن (توجه‌تون رو به عبارت اعتماد به نفس دار جلب مي‌كنم) ولي هر چي كه بود... دلم لك زده واسه يه خورده سادگي. سادگي‌اي كه فقط اين جا و توي ايران اين طوري تعريف مي‌شه. سادگي‌اي كه ترجيح مي‌دم اسمش رو بذارم صداقت.ۀ

قاصدك

2007-09-03T21:16:00.000+03:30

قاصدك يكه و تنها كنار جاده مشغول تماشاي آمد و شدِ تك و توك نفراتي بود كه اون مسير رو براي رسيدن به مقصدشون انتخاب كرده بودن. مقصدي كه با وجود انتخاب اون جاده‌ي دل‌نشين، وسط اين شهري كه بويي از زيبايي نبرده، باز هم انقدر مهم به نظر ميومد كه به عابرها اجازه‌ي اين رو نمي‌داد كه متوجه‌ جزئياتش شن. اما من، شايد به واسطه‌ي اين كه مقصدم خانه‌ي خالي بود و هيچ عجله‌اي براي رسيدن نداشتم؛ شايد هم به اين دليل كه از همه‌ي دوستام دور افتاده بودم و با يه كوله‌بار پيغام كوتاه و بلند تنها مونده بودم؛ و از اون مهم‌تر، كوهي از تنهايي كه بهم اجازه‌ي هم‌دردي با موقعيت قاصدك رو بين اون همه گياه و بته‌اي كه هيچ شباهتي به خودش نداشتن، مي‌داد. هر چي كه بود... قاصدك رو ديدم. با اين وجود تمايلي به چيدنش نداشتم. خم شدم بالاي سرش و ازش كمك خواستم، فوت كردم، به همون تعدادي كه لازم‌َم بود پيغام راهي كردم و به راهم ادامه دادم... شايد روزي يكي ديگه، دلتنگ‌تر از خودم گذارِش به اون‌ورا بيفته... شايد اون روز، اون شخص، خود من باشم.ة

قاب عكس

2007-09-01T23:32:00.000+03:30

يه نگاه كوتاه، بي جواب

در انتظاري بي ثمر، رويايي كوتاه، اندكي خواب

...اينك تو رفته‌اي و من موندم، بگي نگي (سام‌وار!) بي‌تاب

خيلي‌ها رو اين روزها كم ميارم. لحظات بي معني و تعريف نشده، گاهي تلخ، اما اغلب آميخته با حسرتي گنگ؛ حسرت ساعت‌هايي كه پر شد از بهانه‌هاي رنگارنگ، دقايقي سرشار از توجيه، و ثانيه‌هايي كه ناچيز فرض شدند، تا كه بار تنهايي رو بي دردسر با خود حمل كنند.ـ

...آذين، تو هم مي‌دوني كه خونواده‌ي من بدون تو ناقص مي‌مونه. به اميد روزي كه اولين عكسمون رو قاب كنيم

قياس

2007-08-31T02:37:00.000+03:30

“هر آدمي هر جا كه به نفعش باشه تو رو با بقيه مقايسه مي‌كنه...‏”

آذين (ره)‏

Something Old & Something New

2007-08-30T04:50:00.000+03:30

I thought it'd be different this time around, but in the end it never is. I've stopped my consistent writing for almost a year now. I kept changing notepads, the results were never quite what I was hoping for. And now, weblogs... still no spark. I walked home all the way from work yesterday, taking a path all too familiar (Oh no! Intersection up ahead.) in hopes of some inspiration, some fond memories. I took a longer path home, through our old block, taking in the changes and choking on innumerous emotions, each experienced in countless different ways, over the six years or so I'd spent living there. So surely, you'd think I could come up with something better than THIS... A close friend left last night. Another vaguely asked not to be called again, unless it was urgent. I have to attend a goodbye party tomorrow, a day I knew would come, but never even began to imagine it really happening. Too much is changing, too fast; and yet it's not enough. I feel as though I'm bored, the whole process is being prolonged despite my desire. Nothing, nothing seems good enough, not anymore.

عشقه

2007-08-24T21:26:00.000+03:30

عشق را از عَشَقه گرفته‌اند و آن گياهيست كه در باغ پديد آيد در بن درخت، اول بيخ در زمين سخت كند، پس سربرآرد و خود را در درخت مي‌پيچد و هم‌چنان مي‌رود تا جمله درخت را فرا گيرد و چنانش در شكنجه كند كه نم در ميان درخت نماند و هر غذا كه به واسطه‌ي آب و هوا به درخت مي‌رسد به تاراج مي‌برد تا آن‌گاه كه درخت خشك شود...‏
و چون اين شجره‌ي طيبه باليدن آغاز كند و نزديك كمال رسد، عشق از گوشه‌اي سر برآرد و خود را درو پيچد تا بجايي رسد كه هيچ نم بشريت در او نگذارد... و شايسته‌ي آن شود كه در باغ الهي جاي گيرد...‏

شيخ شهاب الدين سهروردي
(رسالة في حقيقة العشق)