And remember the name of thy Lord and devote thyself to Him devoutly. Devotion is one of the states of the travelers, those who, in their states of encounter and unveilings, have reached the point that paradise with all its trees and streams does not enter into the beauty of their imagination; hell, with all its fetters and shackles, trembles in fear at the burning in their breasts. The viper of this world's avarice cannot put its fangs into the days of their delight, thorns from the thickets of envy and pride fail to catch in their skirts, dust from the desert of the com- manding soul does not sit on the robe of their submission, smoke from the abyss of caprice never reaches their eyes. They look at people with the eye of heedfulness, they speak with the tongue of tenderness, they become familiar with the heart of mercy. They are kings in attribute and beggars in form, sultans of the road in the garment of the indigent, travelers who have nothing of distance, fliers without the causality of wings and feathers, drunk with the wine of passion, alive with the life of proximity. A group who have cleared away everything other than Us, striking the fire of their hearts' grief into the spheres. Distant from everything outside of Us, they reached the Throne, their tents set up in the dust.
