The ocean on the way to Santa Cruz last summer.

A fire on the left, a lovely stream on the right.
One group walks toward the fire, into the fire, another
toward the sweet flowing water.
No one knows which are blessed and which are not.
Whoever walks into the fire appears suddenly in the stream.
A head goes under on the water's surface, that head pokes out
of the fire.

Most people guard against going into the fire,
and so end up in it.
Those who love the water of pleasure and make it their devotion
are cheated with this reversal.

The trickery goes further.
The voice in the fire tells the truth, saying I am not fire,
I am fountain head. Come into me, and don't mind the sparks.
Somehow, each gives the appearance
of the other. To these eyes you have now,
what looks like water burns. What looks like fire
is a great relief to be inside.

By the Sufi poet Rumi.

More poems where this one came from. Bows to Rufus for pointing out the poem, and link. And bows to M my sister in the Dharma, this post is for you.